


If I Should Stay

by gloria_andrews



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: (very briefly though), Actor Louis, Anal Sex, Bodyguard Harry, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Angst, References to PTSD, Sexual Tension, Some Ableism, a very small scene of violence, description of a panic attack, discussion of a stalker and invasions of privacy, lol that's pretty much it, okay all these tags are making this seem like the darkest fic ever that isn't really the tone of it, oops I forgot about the sex tags, so proceed with caution if that will offend you, there is a character who is staunchly anti-wheat beer though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:01:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloria_andrews/pseuds/gloria_andrews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a television actor who suddenly needs a bodyguard.  Harry is the bodyguard he ends up hiring.  </p><p>A fic loosely based on the classic 1992 movie <em>The Bodyguard</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Should Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chelseafrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelseafrew/gifts).



> Hello Chelseafrew! I decided to combine two of the prompts you gave me, the famous!louis one and the hurt!harry one. There isn't much emphasis on hurt!harry, but I hope it turned out alright! 
> 
> Thank you to RAOTS for betaing for me and being the best always and so supportive. I love you. - ROTFW. 
> 
> Title is from the fantastic song "I Will Always Love You" by Dolly Parton, as performed by Whitney Houston on _The Bodyguard: Original Soundtrack Album_. I kept watching the music video over and over while I was writing this.  <3 <3 <3 Whitney

Louis Tomlinson woke up surprisingly early the day he was scheduled to interview his third potential-bodyguard candidate in as many days.  He managed to make his way down to the kitchen well before 10:00 am for the first time in weeks, operating the coffee machine and pouring his cereal with such uncharacteristic early-morning precision that it made his childhood friend and personal assistant, Niall Horan, suspicious.

“You’re up early,” Niall pointed out, narrowing his eyes at Louis as he took a bite of his bagel.  

Louis shrugged, like it was no big deal.  Like Niall hadn’t had to almost literally drag him out of bed and march him downstairs for the other two interviews.  He could feel Niall continuing to analyze him as he set his sloshing bowl of Frosted Flakes down on the table and settled into his chair.  He ignored it.  

“Okay,” Niall said slowly, his tone a little wary as he dusted the crumbs off his hands and stuffed the last of his bagel in his mouth.  He chugged the rest of his milk before going on.  “Well, Liam’ll be over with this new guy around nine-ish.  He already gave him a few details about the situation and stuff…  Like the other ones.   So he should be able to answer your questions about like, I don’t know, strategy or whatever... ”

Louis nodded mechanically, chomping on cereal and perching his barefeet on the rung of his chair.  He kept staring blankly forward so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with Niall.

 _The Situation._   

Louis suppressed a snort and rolled his eyes.  The Situation.  Niall had started to use that term whenever he talked about what had been going on lately, whenever he needed to vaguely allude to why they were even interviewing potential bodyguards in the first place.  As though he could shield Louis from the gravity of everything, magically make it all seem like any old obstacle or logistical problem that arisen over the course of Louis’s career.      

A stalker.

The Situation was that Louis had a stalker.  Or at least, a disturbingly overly-obsessed fan.  Obsessed enough to to break into Louis’s house when he (thank God) wasn’t home and send the pictures they had taken inside to him in the mail along with a creepy note written in very fancy calligraphy.       

 _I have that lamp..._  Louis had thought when he’d opened the envelope, momentary confusion giving way to a sick recognition that grabbed hold of him by the throat and made him feel like he might vomit.  

Two letters had followed, strangely sinister in how they seemed to be part of a correspondence the sender had imagined between themselves and Louis, and the second one absolutely chilling in that it casually mentioned Louis’s exact whereabouts the Tuesday afternoon before.  

The police hadn’t been able to help much.  There had been no fingerprints on anything, for starters, not even a partial, and the postmarks were local, but from three different post offices.  Louis wasn’t sure what they could do with that information, anyway.  Set up surveillance on every mailbox in a thirty-mile radius?    

 _They’re just going to send more…_ Louis’s grip tightened on his spoon as the dark thoughts he tried so hard to keep at bay came flooding in.   _Could be worse.  I could have been asleep in one of the pictures…_    Louis squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to stop.  He knew worrying about it didn’t help anything.  “Shouldn’t the general strategy just be to like, prevent me from getting murdered and turned into someone’s favorite stuffed animal?” he asked, cereal hovering in front of his mouth.    

Niall gave him a now-familiar look of resigned distaste, but he didn’t respond.  He hated when Louis was glib about everything.   Louis knew, but he didn’t care.  Or, he couldn’t seem to get himself to stop, anyway.   

“He know who I am?” Louis asked.  He pushed his chair back with an audible scrape and stood up to actually put his empty cereal bowl in the sink for a change.

Niall nodded.  

“I mean, before you --”

“Yeah, he knew who you were,” Niall said, “vaguely, at least.  Liam didn’t have to tell him.”

Louis nodded, absorbing the information, not even sure why it mattered.    

 _I’m not even famous_ , he thought, for what felt like the thousandth time since the incident, his brain still struggling to make sense of this surreal new version of the world he lived in.   _Why is this happening, I’m not even famous._      

Louis _was_ famous, though.  Just not super-famous.  He was like, regular-famous.  Okay-level famous. B-list famous.  Maybe even nice and comfortably C-plus-list famous, if he really wanted to be accurate about it.  He had been famous for almost a decade now, and it had never really been a problem before.    

After only two nationally-aired commercials (one for Taco Bell and one for Kay Jewelers), a guest spot on Law and Order: Criminal Intent, and a three episode arc on The Mentalist, Louis Tomlinson’s life had changed forever when he’d been cast as certified public accountant and reluctant private detective Marlon Brooks on the USA show _Good Books_.  They had just wrapped production on the eighth season and would be returning for a ninth in the fall.  

Starring in a long-running show with a small but devoted following meant that there had always been a few fans who overstepped a little -- an interrupted meal here and there, several awkward attempts to turn a friendly kiss on the cheek into one on the mouth, the occasional slow-moving car chase where Louis refused to go over about 7 miles per hour until whoever was following him left him alone.  Every once in awhile, someone overstepped a little further than usual and did something that unsettled Louis enough to give him a lingering sense of unease, but overall it had felt like a minor inconvenience, like part of the trade-off for being so well paid to have people actually pay attention to him while he did something he loved.  

This, though.  This was extreme in a way that Louis hadn’t been prepared for.  He’d always known he’d have to make compromises to live as a public figure, but he truly hadn’t expected it to ever affect his quality of life to this degree.  It was scary.   

Niall and Liam didn’t seem to think he was coping well.

 _Who could really be expected to cope well with this?_ he thought, a little bit cranky as took out a mug and he poured himself a cup of coffee.   _I’m not ignoring it, at least!_  

Louis could feel that Niall was still observing him from where he sat at the table, trying to get a gauge on his agitation level.  Louis tried not to let it get to him, but he couldn’t help it.

“What?” he finally demanded, raising his eyebrows in annoyance. He was jiggling his left leg in a way that he knew Niall was probably reading into, but he couldn’t help that either.  

Niall let out an exasperated laugh and leaned back in his chair, throwing his hands up like he did whenever he thought Louis was being impossible. “Just trying to figure out how…” he paused like he was searching for the right word, “...combative you’re gonna be this time.”

Louis scoffed out a laugh in return, his brows knitting and mouth dropping open in protest. “I’m not going to be combative, Jesus Christ!”

“Well...” Niall said, clearly unconvinced. The two previous interviews may not have gone so well.  Louis may have been a little dismissive and a little hard to please.      

“ _Well_ ,” Louis repeated with emphasis, widening his eyes at Niall and feeling prickly and on edge.  Everything seemed to make him feel that way lately.  “What exactly are you saying? That I shouldn’t be concerned about properly vetting these people who are supposed to guard my life, if they’re hired?  Or what?”

Niall didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish about his misplaced concerns.  He just gave Louis another unimpressed look and then reached across the table for the paper, probably wanting to get a start on the crossword.  He sighed.       

Louis took a sip of his coffee.  Then another.  “What’s this guy’s name, anyway?”

“Harry Styles,” Niall said.  He rubbed at his face a little before going on, squeezing at the bridge of his nose.  “Liam said he’s a real nice guy.”

“Excellent,” Louis said, lips curling into a sarcastic smirk. “Absolutely perfect.  Number one most important quality in one’s security detail, I’ve always said.”

It was Niall’s turn to roll his eyes.  “You’re very wise.”

“Yes,” Louis said, “I am.”

* 

An hour and a half later, Louis was racing to the front of the house in his stocking feet so he could beat Niall out and open the front door.  He was panting slighting as he did so, all geared up to tease Liam about ringing the doorbell as some kind of weird show for their guest, when he saw that guest standing to Liam’s right on the porch, and his mind derailed.   

He blinked a few times, trying to process.  

“ _You’re_ a bodyguard?” he heard himself ask in a tone of disdainful disbelief, his eyebrows knitting.  

The man in front of him was in undoubtedly good shape, but his build was slight, and he couldn’t have been more than 6’1” on the high end.  He was also strikingly handsome to Louis -- straight, dark brows and a strong jaw, the effect of it all softened by the width of his nose and his full, pink lips.  He looked absolutely nothing like the towering, potato-faced behemoths that Louis had met over the past few days, and the unexpected difference irritated Louis for some reason.  

The man let out a small, surprised laugh, rubbing at his mouth a little and casting a quick glance at Liam before deciding to respond. “I am,” he said, reaching out to shake Louis’s hand and nodding in confirmation. “I _am_ a bodyguard.  I’m Harry Styles.  Nice to meet you.”      

The wry smile on Styles’s face as they shook hands was so attractive to Louis the he felt himself go a little hot with anger over it.  This entire process had him on edge enough as it was; he didn’t want to be dealing with any sexually-frustrating curveballs on top of everything else.  

“Louis Tomlinson,” he gritted out.

Louis knew he should try to be more polite.  Out of common decency, but also because he was quickly running out of time before his upcoming vacation and subsequent book tour, and he wouldn’t be able to hire anyone at all if he drove them all away.  Despite knowing that fact, he couldn’t quite seem to rein it in, a situation that had become distressingly familiar for him over the past few weeks.  

“Shouldn’t you be bigger?” he asked.         

Harry let out an aborted bark of a laugh, apparently unbothered by Louis’s rudeness.  Amusement glinted in his green eyes.

Louis scowled.    

So did Liam, who was not amused at all. “ _Louis_ ,” he hissed under his breath, in the chiding tone he used whenever Louis was embarrassing him. “At least let us into the house...”

Louis glared at Liam, rolling his eyes even as he complied and stepped back further into the entryway.   “Why are you guys always making me out to seem like I’m fucking crazy?” he asked, ignoring Harry Styles for the moment so he could gesticulate forcefully toward Niall, who was looking on from the edge of the living room with his arms crossed over his chest. “This is a legitimate concern here! Aren’t bodyguards supposed to be able to like, carry you through a fucking crowd? Make a path for you and shit?”

Liam had opened his mouth to protest -- maybe not about the sentiment, but at least Louis’s delivery -- when Harry Styles spoke up again.  “It’s definitely a legitimate concern,” he conceded, “especially if you want to be sure you’ll be safe in crowded areas.”

Louis paused to give a Liam a rather snotty told-you-so look.  When he turned back to Styles to thank him for the support, his breath caught slightly in his chest.  Harry had taken a tentative step into Louis’s personal space, his hands raised slightly, and Louis couldn’t stop the blush that spread across his face when he realized Harry was silently requesting his permission to demonstrate that he could indeed pick him up.  

Now that they were closer together, Louis could see that, although Harry had appeared to be slight at first glance, his musculature was actually dense and lean -- a powerful, perfectly-proportioned layer that corded his long, sturdy body.  He was all latent strength, and it was embarrassing how quickly Louis’s body shifted gears in response to the realization, his heart flipping over in his chest and his cheeks burning as unwelcome arousal flickered to life in his belly.  

Louis wanted Harry Styles to pick him up.  He wanted Harry to touch him, so much so that a shock of fear bloomed alongside the understanding inside him, snapping him back to reality and only just stopping him from leaning forward right into Harry’s arms and humiliating himself.    

 _What the fuck._   

“That won’t be necessary,”  Louis said shortly, channeling his irritation over such an inconvenient attraction into his building distaste for this Harry Styles character.  He stepped to the side slightly, stumbling a little on one of his many pairs of carelessly discarded shoes and kicking it away in annoyance.

 _There is absolutely no way we are hiring him.  No fucking way._     

Styles’s eyes were still full of amusement, and a real smile spread on his face as he continued to take Louis in.   He thumbed back over his shoulder with a shrug, a dimple popping. “Well if you truly need convincing, I could do some feats of strength for you out in the front yard.”

Liam let out a hearty, delighted laugh, but Louis’s came out strangled and slightly outraged, and he cringed as a flash of self-awareness made his cheeks heat up even more.

_I’m being such a brat.  I’ve been such a brat._

Harry Styles had only been half-serious, teasing Louis in a easy-going, good-natured way.  That was clear in the warmth of his eyes and in his soft, crooked smile.  Louis would have been dangerously charmed by it under normal circumstances.  Instead, he was just embarrassed.  And angry about feeling that way.  He suddenly had to stifle the urge to turn tail and run.  Just retreat back up to the comfort of his bedroom and bury himself under the covers, leaving Niall and Liam to deal with all of this for him.      

_Flighty, spoiled actor.  Wants all the attention, then wants to complain when he really gets it..._

He realized a beat too late that he’d been staring blankly into the distance for too long for the others not to have noticed, and another surge of embarrassment ran through him.        

“Let’s just go sit down,” he snapped, as he brushed past Niall and blustered into the living room.  He plopped down cross-legged in the middle of one of the overstuffed couch cushions and waited for everyone else to catch up with him, rolling his eyes over Niall’s almost apologetic tone as he introduced himself to Harry Styles.  

Liam gestured for Styles to sit, and Harry perched himself on one of the armchairs, elbows on his knees.  He was alert and apparently waiting for Louis’s questions, and his gaze darted to Niall and Liam when none were immediately forthcoming.   

The awkward silence stretched out for about half a minute, and Louis would have let it go on even longer, but he could feel Niall gearing up to facilitate things and he didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.  He hated being handled, and he’d needed so much of it lately.  

 _Let’s just get this over with._  

“So,” he said, straightening up and lifting his chin a little as he leveled Harry with an imperious look, “how are you gonna keep me alive, then?  Do you know karate or what?”

Harry huffed out another laugh, shaking his head.  “Uh, no, I don’t know karate --”

“He’s a master at jiu-jitsu, Louis,” Liam interrupted peevishly, “which you would know, if you bothered to read my email about the meeting…”

“When has he ever read your emails?” Niall asked with a snorting laugh, taking a sip of the coffee he’d brought with him from the kitchen. “Not even in high school.”   

Liam scoffed out a long-suffering laugh of agreement, and Louis rolled his eyes.  

Liam Payne had been his manager from the very beginning.  From before the beginning, really.  From back when Louis’s acting career was just a fantasy they planned out together in the Monadnock Regional High School Library when they were bored during lunch.  Louis won a lot of imaginary Oscars in those days.  Now he’d just be thrilled to be mentioned in one of those articles about people who should be nominated for Emmys, but never are.  

“I skim them,” Louis lied, clenching his jaw and keeping his eyes locked on Harry Styles the entire time.  

Styles didn’t seem bothered by the scrutiny at all.  He took a deep breath, steepling his long fingers before he started to speak. “My goal as your personal security would always be to minimize the possibility of any type of physical altercation, Louis,” he said, softly, “but if it should ever come to that, I can assure you I can handle myself in a fight.”  

“Ever been in one?” Louis challenged.     

“Yes.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“I spent time in the Navy -- special ops -- and then did about three years working for the US State Department as a Diplomatic Security Agent,” Styles replied, that aggravating, wry smile quirking back up. “More recently, I’ve done some MMA fights.  You can check them out on Youtube, if you want.”  He chuckled, and shrugged.  “Although, I did lose once, so I’m not sure that’s in my best interest in terms of getting this job.”   

He seemed so competent and rational, calm and comfortable with himself, in spite of Louis’s somewhat aggressive behavior toward him.  That should have been a positive thing, especially given the position he was applying for.  Instead, coupled with the images Louis now had of Styles, dark hair damp with sweat and muscles straining as he was pinned in place beneath another man, it only fanned the flames of Louis’s irritation with him.

_Who is this fucking relaxed during a job interview, anyway? Big Red Flag, if you ask me…_

Louis truly just wanted this to be over, already.  He’d just have to get one of those other guys back.  Have one of those more stereotypical-looking bodyguards.   He wanted Harry Styles and his annoying self-possession and even more annoying face and body out of his house and out of his life.  He was about to start wrapping things up as quickly as he could when Niall took over.    

“I know Liam told you why we’re looking for personal security for Louis,” he said, his brow furrowed. “Things have been okay around here since… well, you know... ”  He made a loose motion with his wrist instead of elaborating on the specific incident and then gave Louis a somewhat pointed look.  “We’re actually locking all the doors and turning the security system on, now.  Plus, I live here with Lou.”

Louis rolled his eyes and started to zone out, wanting to stew a little.  Of course it sounded ridiculous in hindsight -- not locking all the doors, not arming the security system every time he left -- but there had never really been a reason to before.  It’s not like the stalker had given them any advance warning!    

_We always left that door open.  Almost always…  It’s not like Niall was Mr. Safety Concerns before..._

Louis turned his head, looking out the back window at the familiar view, downtown Los Angeles hazy in the distance.  He’d bought this house after his second season on the show, and he loved it.  Loved its Spanish Colonial style and terraced backyard.  Loved the dappled light in the mornings and the sunsets at night.  Loved the young, lively neighborhood.  

For a few days after he got the pictures he’d hated it, though.  They’d fled to a hotel and Louis had made several passionate, drunken speeches about how he was just going to have to sell the place and move altogether.  There had been a small, taunting voice in the back of his mind the whole time, reminding him that whoever it was who’d had the nerve and motivation to walk right into his house like they owned it would probably be able to find him wherever he went.  Most of his fans had absolutely no idea where his house even was.    

“How would you deal with things when we’re on the road?” Louis heard Niall ask.  

Louis kept staring out the window as Styles started to detail his perfectly logical and well thought-out plan for dealing with Louis’s vacation in New Hampshire and the small book tour he would be part of starting in July.  

 _Secluded Lake House sounded a lot better two weeks ago,_ Louis thought, grimly.   _So did meeting hundreds of random fans_.

 _Good Books_ had recently published a companion volume for avid viewers with lots of pictures and an oral history of the show, and Louis would be traveling around the country with the showrunner and a few of his castmates to sign it for people.  Do a few panels, maybe.        

Louis used to love the fans.  He still did, really.  He’d always felt protective of them.      

 _Maybe this was just some kind of sick joke.  That’s why they took the pictures,_ he thought, not believing it even as the idea crossed his mind.   _And they sent the letters and now they’re done.  Maybe it was just some kind of cruel short-lived joke to freak me out and now it’s over.  Forever._    

“We’d do location scouting in advance, that type of thing,” Styles was saying. “Definitely, you want to control as many variables as you can.”

He started to talk about how important it was to try to do an in-depth investigation of who this stalker might be, and attempt to get a restraining order if possible.  

“People sometimes talk about how criminals can just ‘walk right through a restraining order,’ ” Harry said, and Louis’s subconscious barely even registered that Harry was maybe quoting the Dixie Chicks, “but it’s important to establish a documented history of this person’s behavior as soon as we can.  It’ll make it easier to press more serious charges down the line if necessary, though of course we hope it never comes to that.”  

Niall and Liam nodded along, leaning forward eagerly, and even though he was distracted, Louis got a sense that they were impressed by Styles.

 _Too bad, because we’re not hiring him.  How does he think he’s going to magically conduct this investigation when the police couldn’t do anything?  Arrogant.  He’s too arrogant.  We’ll be getting one of those other guys.  One of the beefy ones.  A Britney Spears-style beef bodyguard._  

“How soon can you start?” Liam asked, standing up to shake Harry Styles’s hand.  Niall came forward and did the same.   

Louis’s jaw dropped slightly, and he sat in silence, too shocked and dismayed to speak right away.     

Styles smiled, wide and pretty, looking to Louis for confirmation that he had the job.  “At your convenience,” he said.

*

If Liam had been planning on calming Louis down after the meeting ended and convincing him that Harry Styles was their best option, questioning his decision to have a beer at 10:15 am probably wasn’t the best way to go about it.  Louis had been angry before; now he was irate.

“I’m on fucking hiatus!” he shouted, slamming the refrigerator door and rummaging loudly through the silverware drawer for the bottle opener. “You can’t tell me what to do!”  He levered the cap off in one violent motion and then took a long, vindictive pull right in Liam’s face before stomping through the house to the back patio.   

Liam followed closely, standing over Louis where he sat on one of the chaise lounges, nursing his beer.  Liam took several deep breaths, apparently trying to calm himself so he could lay out his arguments, but before he could start, the stormy expression on his face cleared and he looked up at the sky, shaking his head and letting out a pleased little laugh, in spite of himself.

“What?” Louis said, suspicious. He had to strongly coach his facial muscles to keep from smiling slightly in return, struggling against the natural sympathetic response of over two and a half decades of friendship.

Liam chuckled again, nodding toward the bottle in Louis’s hand.  “That’s a wheat beer,” he said, openly laughing, now. “Serves you right, you stubborn son of a bitch.”

Louis had to fight even harder to keep from smiling back, and it was a losing fight.  He didn’t outright hate wheat beer, but it was a close thing.  He must have grabbed one of Niall’s by mistake, too angry to notice the taste of it even though it was almost half gone already.  He rubbed at his forehead, finally letting a laugh out. “Shut up.”

“I’m not going to,” Liam said, sitting down on the edge of the chaise, by Louis’s legs.  He took the bottle from Louis’s hand, taking a pull himself.    

They sat together, sharing the beer and giggling every once in a while, the tension between them broken.

“Do I really need a bodyguard?” Louis asked after a few minutes, a note of childish pleading in his voice even though he knew the answer. “You and Ni are gonna be there almost the whole time, anyway.”  

“Lou,” Liam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face.  He continued softly, “Yes, you do.  I know you don’t like to talk about it, but this person broke into your house, and we have no idea what they might do next.”

Louis nodded, letting out a long sigh of his own and taking another swig of the mediocre beer.

“We at least need someone until we figure out like, what this person really wants, if not who they are.  Although, even then… ” Niall said, from the doorway, holding a wheat beer of his own.  He shuffled forward and sat on the chair next to Louis’s.  “And the book tour --” his face went pinched with worry.  “We definitely need someone for the book tour.  It’s too risky.  I’m sorry, Lou.”

“Sorry I’m being such a pill.”

“Hey, no,” Liam said, shaking his head. “No.  This has been hard on us all.”

“Does it have to be him?” Louis asked, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Yes,” they said in unison.  

“He has by far the best resume of anyone that applied,” Liam said.  “His references are glowing.  He’s very, very smart and very experienced.  And personally, I think we’ll all get along.”

Louis rolled his eyes.

“Why exactly don’t you like him?” Niall asked, giving him a thoughtful, almost knowing look.  He hid a bit of a smirk behind his beer bottle, taking a small sip.  “What are your objections?”    

“It’s just --”  Louis struggled.  The tangle of annoyance and attraction he’d experienced earlier burned in his chest.  “He’s too -- He’s too --”

“Qualified?  Competent?” Niall supplied, as he raised his brows twice in quick succession. “Well-built?”

“Overly self-assured,” Louis finished firmly, trying and failing not to remember how sharp Harry Styles had looked in the business casual clothes he’d worn for the interview.  Even that had added to Louis’s annoyance with him in general.  Why should someone just get to look so good like that?  An off the rack blazer fitting like it was made for him?

Liam squinted at Louis, tilting his head back and forth. “I don’t really think the self-assurance is unearned.”   

“Nope,” Niall agreed.

“Look, Louis, if we had the luxury of time, I would say we could interview a few more people,” Liam said, “but we’re leaving for New Hampshire in four days.  Your family is coming to visit...”

Louis huffed out a breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back toward the sun.  “Fine,” he groaned, before draining the last of the beer.  “Fine.”

 *

The following Monday, Louis was at LAX, perusing a rack of sunglasses in the Sunset News before their 1:40 pm flight to New Hampshire.  Or to Detroit, really.  They had a three-hour layover there before they flew on to Manchester, and Niall wasn’t happy about it.  

“Let’s just charter a jet, Lou!” he had said at least four times, half-joking, in the days leading up to the trip. “Syndication! Cha-ching!”

Louis snorted under his breath at the thought of it and switched out another pair of glasses -- aviators this time, squinting through the darkness of the lenses so he could make himself out in the sliver mirror at the top of the rack.

Harry Styles made a small noise of approval under his breath from where he stood a few feet back, and Louis frowned, turning to glare.  

“We’re not paying you for your fashion opinions, are we?” he asked, yanking the sunglasses off so that Styles could see he was indeed glaring.  Louis tried to jab them back into their slot and failed several times before he succeeded.  “I don’t remember indicating that was required or desired during our little meeting.”

He and Niall and Liam had met with Harry Styles on Saturday afternoon to formally offer him the position and hammer out a specific game plan for Louis’s protection, going forward.  They’d covered everything from Louis’s social media management, to getting a security system set up at the lake house, to how they might go about further investigating his stalker.  

It had mostly been an exercise in worry and frustration for Louis.  He kept feeling like his world was caving in, shrinking around him until he’d have absolutely no space to move.  The small saving grace had been that after some pushback -- mostly Harry’s concerns about social media chatter over Louis’s whereabouts -- they’d all agreed that Louis could wander around the airport if he wanted, given that he wouldn’t take any pictures with fans, and Harry would be with him.   

“Why do you even need to walk around the airport at all?” Liam had asked during the meeting, somewhat mystified and definitely irritated. “Normally you just stay in the lounge and drink a lot.”

“It’s not about need,” Louis had said, rolling his eyes and frowning as he ignored Liam’s typical and subtle dig about his alcohol consumption habits. “It’s about want.  What if I _want_ a new trashy magazine and some Sour Patch Kids, Liam?  I should be able to go get them, even though… even though --”  He hadn’t been able to finish that thought, so he’d just changed tack.  “I promise I won’t take any pictures.  No one ever recognizes me anyway.  It won’t even be an issue.”      

So now, there he and Harry were, puttering around the Delta terminal because Liam always insisted on getting to the airport about two and a half hours early, even when they weren’t flying international, and Louis wasn’t going to let a deranged stalker control his life.    

“You seemed to be offering them up pretty freely, earlier,” Harry Styles said, smiling small and running a hand through his short, dark hair.   

Louis barely heard him.  Distracted by the motion of Harry’s hand, he was now glaring at Harry’s infuriatingly nice hair.   _It looks like coffee,_ Louis thought. _Coffee beans...   It’s the color of coffee beans.  Roasted ones.  They’re red…  before they’re roasted.  So, roasted coffee beans..._   _What, does he go to the barber every three days?  It’s so soft… yet crisp…_   

He averted his eyes and blinked several times when he realized Harry was looking at him quizzically, apparently waiting for a response.  

“What?” he asked dumbly, shifting his weight around while he distracted himself by choosing another pair of glasses.  

Harry approached the rack, giving a soft laugh as he selected a pair for himself. “Fashion opinions,” he said, turning the glasses over in his hands for inspection, but not putting them on.  “You didn’t seem to be holding those back at all, earlier.”

Louis scoffed.  He gestured vaguely toward Harry’s person, not wanting to get tempted into giving him a once-over, yet again.  It was just hard to resist when Harry was in a cream-colored polo that contrasted so well with his roasted coffee bean hair, and snug, dark jeans that fit like an absolute dream. “Well it’s not my fault! Not when you -- you show up for nine hours of air travel looking like you’re going to fucking prom!”

“Prom?” Harry snorted.  He was clearly entertained, and Louis’s eyes narrowed further, annoyance flaring up in his chest.  It was one thing, knowing deep down that he was being uncharacteristically and unfairly rude to someone who didn’t deserve it because of his frustration over his situation.  It was another, having to deal with said person taking it all in such easy stride.  

“Yes, prom,” Louis confirmed, haughtily.  He buried his hands in the pockets of the old grey sweatpants he was wearing, nodding down toward his own body to illustrate the difference between their outfits and ignoring the little blip in his pulse rate when Harry’s eyes flicked up and down, taking him in.      

“Just felt a little wrong to go that dressed down when I’m working, I guess,” Harry said with a shrug. “First day and all.”    

“You’re supposed to blend in, isn’t that the idea?” Louis adjusted the beanie on top of his head while peering in the tiny mirror again before he turned back to Harry. “Instead everyone around here is like, ‘okay, wait, does this man think it’s prom today at the airport?!?  That the prom is here? Why would he think that?’ ” He mimicked these supposedly baffled travellers by furrowing his brow and moving his hands around in mock confusion.

Harry’s mouth pulled into a playful smirk, his eyes bright. “Well, maybe I went to a Cinnabon before my prom,” he said, opening and shutting the arms of the sunglasses in his hand with a satisfying, plastic-tapping sound, “and always get nostalgic about it when I fly.”

Louis let out a little laugh before he could stop himself, quickly reining his features back into a frown and crossing his arms over his chest.  His crankiness turned into surprise when Harry suddenly reached out and took his elbow, smoothly positioning Louis slightly behind him.

Before Louis really understood what was happening, or had time to analyze the unfortunate, tingling warmth he felt where their arms were now pressed together, Harry was speaking again.         

“Are we hogging all the sunglasses?” Harry asked the middle-aged woman who was now in front of them, his tone even and friendly.  

Louis blinked rapidly, his heartbeat accelerating.  He hadn’t even noticed her approaching.  

“Oh, um, no…” the woman said.  Harry stepped back from the rack slightly to offer her access.  He kept Louis safely, subtly behind him, and she looked nervously eager as she tried peer around him and get a fuller glimpse of Louis.     

Louis swallowed hard, balling his fists to keep from grabbing on to Harry Styles for comfort.  

They had discussed this.  Louis knew they had discussed what they would do if he were to be approached by a fan, but the reality of it happening was something else, and he felt himself going hot and cold with a swirl of conflicting emotions.  The adrenaline rush made his heart pound like it might beat right out of his chest.

 _No one’s going to try to kill you in the middle of the fucking airport, relax.  Just relax.  This is just a nice regular lady, who likes your show.  Nothing to be worried about._ He struggled to reassure himself, desperate to ignore the frantic undercurrent of _what if… what if…  what if..._ that was also running through his mind.              

He’d so rarely been in public since he’d gotten those pictures in mail.  Niall had done the grocery shopping and Liam had done the coffee runs, and Louis had just stayed at home with whichever one of them wasn’t out.  And now, the repercussions of stomping out into the concourse, pretending he was fearless and this person who had sent him disturbing mail wasn’t terrorizing his life, were catching up to him.

Harry turned then, craning his neck slightly to look down at Louis with an unspoken question in his eyes.  He was actually looking for confirmation, Louis realized, as though he already thought he knew -- could sense -- that Louis didn’t want this.  That he didn’t want to have to interact with this woman in any way.  That he wanted to run away back to Liam and Niall and the privacy and relative safety of the first class lounge, tucked away from the public at large.  Harry was right -- he was _very_ right -- but something about the assumption stung Louis’s pride.  Anger surged through him all over again about having been put in a position where he’d have to feel this scared at all.     

“It’s fine,” he hissed in a whisper, his fists still clenched at his sides.       

Harry’s eyebrows rose once in surprise, but he recovered quickly and nodded, turning back to the woman and smiling warmly.  “Do you watch the show?” he asked, stepping carefully to the side so that although Louis was no longer behind him, Harry was still positioned between him and the unfamiliar woman -- almost like he was facilitating the big photo op handshake before an important boxing match. “Would you like an autograph?”

It was very well done, and Louis knew that, but he was only annoyed by that fact.  His anger over the entire situation only intensified, until it was a bright ball burning deep in his chest.  Everything felt so beyond unfair, right down to Harry Styles’s presence.  

“How about a picture, instead?” Louis asked defiantly, slipping into his “Louis Tomlinson, semi-accomplished and semi-well-known actor” persona and smiling openly.  He felt Harry tense ever so slightly beside him, eyes flashing over to Louis’s face, but Louis refused to acknowledge it, plowing forward.  “I’m Louis Tomlinson.”  

“That would be amazing!” the woman said, her voice a little reedy with nerves. “I’m Susan. How nice to meet you! I’ve been watching the show for years!”

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you too, Susan!” Louis said, quickly shaking her hand. He hoped he didn’t seem too manic as he shuffled around so he could put an arm around her, nodding toward the phone in her hand so she knew it was time for the picture. “Make sure you get that nice, flattering, above angle!” he said.  

As soon as they’d finished up and Susan was happily walking away, Harry Styles took Louis by the elbow again, this time his grip much firmer.   His expression was dark as he guided Louis quickly through the crowded concourse, back toward Niall and Liam.

“I suppose you’re angry,” Louis said, rolling his eyes as he scurried along, trying to keep up with Styles’s long strides.

Harry Styles didn’t respond, just kept deftly dodging fellow travellers and moving them both efficiently forward.  

“It was just one picture!” Louis pointed out, peevishly.  He wished Harry would just slow down.  Would react in some way. “You don’t have to be so dramatic about it!  Everything turned out fine!”

That finally seemed to land with Harry, and he paused, furrowing his brow as he shot a look at Louis.  He must have thought better of saying anything, though, because he started walking again immediately, his mouth a firm line as they continued on.      

“You’re overreacting!” Louis said, as they quickly showed their boarding passes to the attendant at the entrance to the lounge and proceeded inside.  

Louis stalked ahead of Harry, whirling around to face him as soon as they were fully inside the lounge.  “I’m not going to let fear dictate my life!” he snapped, hands on his hips.  

Harry Styles let out a joyless laugh, looking up at the ceiling briefly before he stared at Louis in disbelief.  “Oh really? Not going to let fear dictate your life, huh?” he said, his eyes hot. He didn’t raise his voice, but the tinge of sarcasm in it made Louis’s blood go a little cold and his face go a little hot and he shied back slightly when Harry took a firm step toward him, gesturing emphatically.  “So what was that back there, then?  Pretty sure your decision to take a picture with that woman was entirely related to your fear, even if you thought you were just overcoming it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Louis spat back, anger burning through him like a wildfire.  It didn’t matter if Harry was maybe one hundred percent correct, he didn’t have to be such a self-righteous dickhead about it. “Are you a registered psychologist as well as a fucking bodyguard or something? You have no fucking clue what I was thinking!”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he took several deep, measured breaths.  He shook his head and then worked his jaw a little, like he needed to to take a minute in order to deal with Louis without completely losing his temper, and Louis got a shameful thrill from it.  

Underneath the roiling mix of shame and anger, he knew he was actually enjoying the conflict.  Up to this point, Harry Styles had seemed like some kind of unflappable, emotionless action figure to Louis, and seeing him lose even a little bit of control felt like a dark triumph.  Louis wanted to prod at Harry until he lost it all the way, until he felt as unstable as Louis did himself.     

“It’s not like that sixty-five year old woman even knows what Twitter is, anyway,” Louis scoffed, his eyes darting over Harry’s face.  Louis popped a hip and let his lips curl into a twisted smirk, cultivating an air of flippancy that was designed to send Harry Styles careening over the edge into full-blown rage.  “No one’s going to know where I am.”

For a glorious split second, Louis saw fire light behind Harry Styles’s eyes, and his soul expanded, reaching for the win.  The fire extinguished just as quickly though, and Harry let out a long sigh, rubbing at his forehead with a tired huff of a laugh, like he’d just come back to himself.  

Louis spent a moment on a knife’s edge, his breath caught in his chest as Harry’s eyes flicked over him, terrified that Harry had seen right through him and was going to call him out for antagonizing him in such an intentional and childish way.   

It didn’t happened.  Harry took a few more deep breaths before he replied, looking more worried and disappointed than anything else when he finally spoke again.     

“You really don’t know that, Louis. I mean, I wouldn’t bet on her posting it either, but you certainly can’t be sure,” he said, sighing again before he went on.  “That’s the not the point, though.  The point is we had a plan, and you agreed to it.”

Louis started chewing on the inside of his lip, squirming where he stood. All of the wicked enjoyment from just minutes before had vanished.

“The plan was there to keep you safe,” Harry said, completely calm, though there was iron running through his words.  “Not just for today, but more importantly, for the rest of the summer.  I have to be able to trust that you’ll hold up your end of our plans in order to do my job.  I’m not going to work for you if I can’t trust you to be looking out for your own best interests, so that I can, too.”            

Embarrassment crept across Louis’s skin, the bright red on his face no longer due to anger. The same self-recrimination he’d felt on the day Harry Styles had first interviewed thudded through him, twice as strong.   

 _Spoiled brat.  I’m acting like a spoiled fucking brat.  Everyone’s trying to help, and I can’t even cooperate. Pathetic._   

“I’m not going to keep you locked up in some kind of fucking tower,” Harry went on, scrubbing his hand through his hair, in what Louis was beginning to realize was a nervous tic. “You can’t live that way.  But I’m not here to watch you be reckless, either.  If you want to change a plan you need to clear it with me first.  Just like I would with you, unless there was an immediate threat.”

They stood together in silence for a moment, the chatter and motion in the lounge going on around them, and Louis felt cloaked in shame.  

“Do you understand?” Harry asked at last.  

 Louis took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air until they were so full it hurt a little bit. He nodded curtly, and then walked away to sit with Niall and Liam in the large, comfy chairs by the windows.  

It wasn’t until they were on their second flight, somewhere in the air between Detroit and Manchester, NH,  that Louis had wallowed sufficiently and the guilt had built up inside him enough that he couldn’t hold back any longer.  He had to apologize.   

No matter how messed up he felt about everything, it wasn’t fair to everyone else, the way he’d been acting -- difficult and contrary and rash, all because he was so scared.

 _You’re going to have to get used to this,_ Louis thought, as he worked up the nerve to say he was sorry. He snuck a quick glance at Harry, who was completely absorbed in his laptop screen next to him. _You’re going to have to get used to him, too.  He isn’t going anywhere..._           

Even though he’d only spent a few hours with Harry Styles total, it still felt weird how poor of a grasp he had on Harry, as a person.  Louis was usually pretty good at reading people, but he’d been so wrapped up in his own emotions that Styles had just been an aggravatingly good-looking, highly capable blank slate before their argument.

 _Well, he does maybe have a sense of humor._ The thought just made Louis feel more guilty, and he bit at the inside of his cheek, adjusting his blanket around him and smiling small.   _Cinnabon before prom..._   

It was hard for Louis to imagine the man next to him going through such a human experience as prom.  Awkward and insecure, bumbling through pre-prom pictures and messing up his date’s corsage while wearing an ill-fitting suit.  It just didn’t fit.   

 _He probably didn’t even have one of those phases where all his features were the wrong size for his face._     

The truth was, it was hard for Louis to imagine Harry Styles as a teenager at all.  It felt like Harry had been born, fully formed, as a competent, self-confident adult, even though Louis knew that couldn’t possibly true.

 _He is a real person with real emotions, just like you, and you need to get over yourself and apologize so you can maybe be sort-of-friends and this won’t be the worst summer of your life._   

Louis sat up in his seat, his heart racing as he turned to Harry, ready to get it over with.  “Um,” he started, trying to keep his voice somewhat hushed since it was dark out now, and so many other people in the cabin were sleeping.  

Harry looked up from his laptop, blinking slowly, his face illuminated by the eerie light of the screen.  

“I just wanted to,” Louis said softly, shifting awkwardly and struggling to maintain eye contact as he fixed his blanket again, “um, apologize? For earlier… ”  

Harry’s face softened immediately, and he curved his body toward Louis, focusing in on him intently. Louis flushed with self-consciousness, but he kept going, wringing his hands.  

“I’m really sorry about how I’ve been acting. I’m not -- “ Louis rubbed at an eyebrow, letting out an embarrassed little laugh.  “I’m not usually so…like, um... ornery? And inconsiderate.” Louis shook his head, letting out another laugh. “You must think I’m like, some sort of spoiled brat of an actor...”      

Harry’s brow furrowed and he opened his mouth, most likely to object, and Louis’s face burned even hotter with the realization that it had sounded like he’d been fishing for a rebuttal.

“I mean!” he said, shaking his head and pressing a small hand against his chest.  “That’s how _I know_ I’ve been acting.  And it’s really just -- I know it’s no excuse -- but I’ve really…” he swallowed hard, unable to go on above a whisper. “You were right, I’m scared,” he laughed again, relieved to have it all the way out in the open, but also feeling like he might burst into tears. “I’m really fucking scared.”  

Harry Styles took a deep breath, closing his laptop and stowing it in the pocket on the back of the chair in front of him.  “It’s okay to be scared,” he whispered, then he shook his head. “I mean, thank you for apologizing, first of all.”  He ran his hand through his hair before he continued.  “But it makes complete sense to be scared -- to feel a little crazy about everything and not know how to handle it.  I owe you an apology, too.  I did overreact --”  He chuckled and held up a hand in protest when Louis pursed his lips and started to shake his head. “No, I did.  To be honest with you, I was frustrated with myself, mostly, and I took it out on you a little bit.  I should have done a much better job of figuring out where you were mentally and -- and I should have made absolutely sure we were on the same page before we were out there together.  That’s like.  That’s part of my job.  It was unprofessional of me, and I don’t know why I didn’t --”  If Louis didn’t know better he would have thought Styles had maybe blushed slightly, but with the dim light of his laptop screen no longer there, it was impossible to tell for sure.  “I won’t let you down like that again.”

Louis scoffed, flushing again, this time because of the warm pleasure Harry’s words had sent through him.   _What the fuck is wrong with you? First you’re trying to drive him off and suddenly you want to be Whitney Houston.  He isn’t attracted to you.  Get it together._ “You didn’t let me --”

“No, no, I did,” Harry whispered, shaking his head. “This is a major adjustment for you.” Harry laughed, his eyes gleaming in the darkness of the cabin. “You maybe weren’t making it the easiest --”

Louis huffed out a laugh along with him, covering his face with a hand. “Sorry.  I just really am sorry.”

“No, I’m just kidding,” Harry said, smiling as he leaned further toward Louis’s seat.

That sat together in silence for a little while, and Louis felt calmer and happier than he had in a long time, lulled by the hum of the engines and the whir of the air recycling through the plane.  He pulled his blanket up to his chin, and kept looked at Harry Styles in the dark.

“We just should have talked more,” Harry said, at last. “Like, we need to go over how you’re feeling about everything, what you’re actually comfortable with and what you need from me, specifically, to feel that way.”

“Sounds like we’re kink negotiating,” Louis snorted, his eyes widening in horror as soon as the words were out of his mouth.  

Harry Styles just yelped out a laugh, though, elbowing Louis like they were old friends, and Louis shouldn’t make him laugh like that when everyone around them was sleeping.

“Well,” Harry said, biting his lip over a smile, “it _is_ a negotiation of sorts.  We’re going to have to learn to be a team.”  He shrugged.  “To trust each other.”

Louis nodded, letting out a long sigh and stretching his arms over his head.  “I get it now,” he said, feeling like he was having eighty different revelations about his psychological state at once.  He started fiddling with his arm rest, picking at the plastic. “It’s just like -- I’ve been so upset, and like, pretending I’m not.  And I lumped you in with all of that and sort of started thinking of you as the enemy, too.  And -- and I’m sorry.“

“It’s okay,” Harry whispered, drumming his fingers on his own arm rest. He chuckled softly. “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it, but I do understand how it feels to be rattled by something.  Like, really rattled.  That’s -- “ he cleared his throat, shrugging. “That’s an experience I’ve had too.”

Louis nodded, swallowing thickly.  He was lost in thought for a moment, wondering about all of the things Harry Styles had gone through to be here now, so self-assured and -- and kind.  Jesus Christ.      

 _He was in the fucking Navy for crying out loud…_  

“It’s good that we’re getting this stuff worked out right now,” Harry said, almost conversationally, tugging Louis out of his momentary reverie. “The book tour -- “

“Yeah, I know,” Louis whispered, biting at a nail.  

At least at the lake they would always know who should be coming and going, and they had worked out a plan of misdirection to obfuscate where Louis really was.  On the book tour, Louis’s exact location would be advertised for weeks on end, with an open call to anyone at all to show up.  When he thought about it too much, Louis wanted to cancel altogether.   

“We’re gonna keep you safe,” Harry whispered, resting a light hand on Louis’s wrist.  “We’re gonna work together and keep you safe.”

Louis nodded, turning to look out the window at the night sky, the lights of a city in upstate New York glowing amber below them.

“Thank you,” he whispered, really meaning it.  

They fell silent together again, and although it was unspoken, it felt like they’d both agreed it was time to go to sleep for a little while, maybe the rest of the flight.

Louis reclined his chair and snuggled into his blanket, a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders.  His anxiety hadn’t been entirely eased by their conversation, but he felt so much relief --  having apologized and having admitted just how scared he was and how much it was affecting him.  

He could feel a new underlying worry taking hold of him as he tried to get to sleep, though.  A small one.  The sweet, struggling seed of a crush had taken root in his heart while he and Harry were talking, and Louis was too old and too self-aware to lie to himself about it.     

 _It’s probably better I like him too much than not at all, right?_ Louis told himself as he finally started to drift off for real.   _It’s not like it matters.  It’s not like -- it’s not like it matters…_   

*

Louis’s place on Spofford Lake was a drafty little box of a house at the end of dusty private drive.  Louis’d grown up spending weekends out there with his mom’s side of the family during the summer -- all the cousins and dogs running all over the place, children having to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor.  He’d jumped at the chance to buy it a few years back, after scheduling everyone’s time out there had become an ongoing source of headaches and petty arguments for the major players involved.  Louis suspected his Aunt Candace was still a little bitter about it all, if her passive-aggressive muttering from the two previous Thanksgivings were anything to go on.  

He’d barely renovated since -- just fixed up the screened-in porch and deck that looked out over the lake and made sure the hot water heater could actually handle a sudden, high demand for showers.  It was the setting that made the place, anyway.  Nestled between a tiny inlet and a much larger one, it was on a small, stubby peninsula that jutted out into the lake and provided gorgeous views from every angle.       

Louis sat in a lawn chair on the little beach out front for a while after they first arrived that morning, letting Niall and Liam air out the house and Harry get to work on setting up whatever security measures he’d decided on.  He drank some coffee and looked out at the water, listening to the familiar sound of the wind rushing through the tops of the trees.  

It sounded different than it did in Los Angeles.  More rustle-y and just -- just better, in Louis’s opinion.  No matter how long he lived in California, and no matter how much he loved it, Louis knew that New Hampshire would always be home.  The lakes and the pine tree-covered mountains and even the sandiness of the soil, it all made his head feel clearer somehow.  

He already felt safer there too, even if that might just be an illusion.    

“What time’s dinner?” Niall asked, coming up beside him with his own cup of coffee.  

“Told her we’d get there around 5:30, have a little cocktail hour first,” Louis said.  He chuckled.  “So, we gotta pick up some more beer on the way there.  Maybe some water table crackers and cheese.”

They were having supper at Louis’s mother’s house that night, back in Swanzey.  

“You talk to her yet?” Niall asked, cupping his mug in his hands and blowing across the hot liquid.   

Louis nodded, sighing and running a hand over his face.  He’d put it off until the last minute and tried to downplay it as much as he could, but of course his mom had seen right through that.  

“Good,” Niall whispered.

They stood together drinking quietly for a few minutes, until Harry wandered over.  

“I set up a motion sensor at the beginning of the driveway, so we’ll know when anyone shows up, “ he said.  He jiggled his wrist, displaying the smartwatch on it, as if to illustrate how they’d be notified. “Even if we’re not around, I’ll know if someone’s here.”  Harry made a looping motion toward the house with his pointer finger. “Just gonna put up some lights around here, too.  Then we should be good to go.”

“Thanks, man,” Niall said, patting him on the back.  

Harry nodded, putting his hands on his hips as he looked around, taking in the view.  “It’s beautiful out here,” he said.  

“Yeah,” Louis agreed, admiring Harry’s profile. He was overcome with a strange nostalgia then, looking at Harry look at the lake. He wondered about Harry’s whole life again, the desire to get to know him an insistent itch under his skin.   

_Where did you grow up?  How did you end up here with us, of all places?_

He was about to ask, when one of the doors on the screened-in porch slammed shut and Liam came stomping out onto the deck behind them, announcing his presence.  

“Louis, we aren’t putting the dock in without you this time, I hope you know,” he shouted, nodding toward the shed to the right of the house where they kept all the boating shit during the non-summer months.  

Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he groaned, “can we do it tomorrow, though?”

“Absolutely not!” Liam said, clomping down to join them. “You’ll keep saying that until the summer’s over!”

Louis turned to Niall for support, but he only laughed in agreement. 

*

Hours later, after putting the dock in and getting the row boat and the little Boston Whaler in the water, too, they were settling in for pre-dinner drinks and snacks on Louis’s mother’s own screened-in porch.  Her husband Dan had the Red Sox game on in the background while he worked the grill outside, peering in from the patio every few minutes to curse under his breath about how poorly they were playing.  

“So,” Jay said, taking a seat across from Harry Styles and sipping her gin.  “Where did you grow up, Harry?  Have you ever been to New Hampshire before?  How did you end up working as a bodyguard?”

Louis groaned internally, embarrassed, even though those were all questions he wanted answers to himself.  He should have known she’d interrogate Harry the first chance she got.  Introducing them had been awkward enough.  For some reason it had felt uncomfortably like he was introducing her to a boyfriend, what with the impeccably polite way Harry had shaken her hand and smiled, complimenting her on having a lovely home.  And also with the weirdly intense way Louis already wanted her to approve.  

 _What the fuck is wrong with me?_   

“I’m from Long Island, actually,”  Harry said, his eyes flicking away from the baseball game.

“Oh!” Jay said.  “No accent though?”

Harry shrugged. “Comes out more whenever I go home.”

Jay and Liam and Niall all burst out laughing, turning to look at Louis.  

Louis scoffed, shaking his head.  He turned to Harry, whose brow was creased slightly in amused confusion. “They’re always making fun of me for that same thing,” he explained, rolling his eyes. “It’s really not that bad.”

Niall snorted in glee. “He’s a big liar,” he grinned at Harry.  “On TV and out in LA he’s all standard American English.  We get back here, and suddenly he’s taking the cahhh to the bahhh and like, putting on his parker.”

Harry was laughing, his eyes soft and bright.  “Parker?”

“You guys aren’t even with me out here in the winter, so shut up,” Louis huffed, narrowing his eyes at Niall and jabbing a finger at him. “He means parka,” he said to Harry, “which I do, in fact, know how to pronounce. Par-ka.  See?”

“That one’s my fault,” Jay said laughing.  “To be honest with you Harry, I have a hard time with an A at the end of a word.”

“I don’t say parker!” Louis said, throwing his hands up. “I don’t even talk about parkas for crying out loud!  I have a coat! Like everyone else. Jesus Christ.”

“He didn’t talk about parkers very much,” Liam giggled, over top of his beer, “but when he did, he called them parkas.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Louis said, frowning exaggeratedly.  Harry was smiling so big that his dimple had appeared, though, and Louis struggled not to get too warm inside about him clearly finding it all endearing.   

“Alright, alright,” Jay said, her eyes twinkling, “that’s enough.”  She immediately zeroed back in on Harry, though. “So, do you watch the show?”

Louis groaned out loud this time, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not everyone has to watch the show, Ma.”  

He still couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped in disappointment when Harry replied though, self-consciousness creeping in.    

“I don’t, actually.”  Harry sounded apologetic.  He rested his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.  “No.”

_He’s probably never even watched at all.  It’s not like he’s personally rejecting you._

“Did you know who Louis was, before you met him?” Jay pressed, and Louis felt his face go hot with familiar embarrassment.  He knew his mother was proud of him and his success, and he appreciated it, he really did, but sometimes she pushed it a little too much and it was excruciating.

“I did,” Harry said, smiling.  He looked so adorably pleased to have been able to give Jay an answer that would make her happy that Louis had to look away.  He stared down at his beer, picking at the label.   

“How did you know who he was if you don’t watch the show?” Jay asked, literally giving Harry the side-eye.  

“That Kay Jeweler’s commercial, probably,” Louis joked in an effort to protect his pride. “Always say it’s my finest acting.”

But Harry ignored him, still smiling softly at Jay. “I’m gay,” he said simply, shrugging, “so.”

Louis went hot all over again, this time not from embarrassment.  He couldn’t stop himself from whipping his head up to stare at Harry, wide-eyed.    

Harry shrugged again, a light blush on his cheeks.  

“Oh,” Louis murmured.  His heart lurched in his chest when Harry gave him a shy smile.  

Louis’s eyes darted all over Harry’s face as his mind whirred, processing this new information.  It made him want to understand Harry Styles so much more, he felt almost crazy with it.  

_He’d have been in the military during Don’t Ask Don’t Tell…_

Louis had come out right when the third season of _Good Books_ was premiering.  He’d done a round of promo for the show in order to do so -- lots of interviews for popular, liberal entertainment websites, a short piece in People magazine, and an Ellen appearance.  Right then, he felt so lucky to have been able to come out, all over again -- and proud, too.  He knew Harry probably had a mental list, just like he did, of all the celebrities who were out.  Even the minor ones.      

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair.  

Louis nodded.  The longer they looked each other, the deeper the web of mutual understanding that wove its way around them felt to Louis.  His heart was lighter than it had been in quite some time, lighter even than after their talk on the plane.  Almost like he might start laughing out loud over nothing at all.  

“Dinner’s up!” Dan announced from the porch doorway, reminding Louis that other people existed in the world beside him and Harry Styles, gay men with gay experiences.   

 _This is bad news,_ Louis told himself, even though he truly felt the exact opposite way.   _You are in trouble.  Big trouble.  He is your employee.  You are NOT Whitney Houston._

Later in the night, after everyone had stuffed themselves with burgers and corn on the cob, and he and Niall and Liam were clearing the table and taking care of the dishes, Louis saw his mother take Harry aside on the porch.  Louis laughed quietly, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and pride.  He knew she’d been throwing Harry softballs all night and was probably making absolutely sure he was the real deal and would keep Louis safe. A glance back over his shoulder confirmed this -- Jay was talking and making firm hand gestures as Harry Styles nodded along, wide-eyed.  

What he hadn’t expected was walking back out from the kitchen a few minutes later to find them hugging.

 _What the fuck.  Fuck._     

Maybe Louis had been wrong.  Maybe it had been better when he’d hated Harry Styles irrationally.  It had definitely been easier, three hours before, when he hadn’t known Harry was gay.  

Niall came up beside him and clapped him on the shoulder, laughing.  Liam’s expression was less amused, a little pinched, like he was worried about what was going to happen.

“Shut up,” he said to both of them, even though neither had spoken.  

_I can enjoy having a crush.  A crush that can’t go anywhere.  People do that all the time.  Normal people.  I’m a normal person._

“Yo, Styles!” Niall called out after Harry and Jay had stepped apart.  He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “You gonna drive us home since you didn’t drink?”

“Sure,” Harry said, pulling the sliding screen door closed behind him as he came into the house.

Niall looked alarmed suddenly, glancing around at everyone with big eyes. “Wait, can he just like, not drink? Like this whole summer?  He just can’t drink ‘cause he’s working?  How awful.”

Harry laughed, the noise of it rumbling out of his chest.  “It’s okay, buddy,” he said, “I’m used to it.”

“You could have like, a single beer,” Louis said, crossing his arms over his chest when Harry’s eyes flicked over to him, “couldn’t you?”

“I guess that’d be up to you as my employer,” Harry said, shrugging.  He shook his head, biting his lip. “I don’t think it’s a particularly good idea, though.”  He looked right at Louis, and then scratched at the back of his neck, his cheeks pink. “I don’t like to -- I mean, I don’t want to forget I’m working… Get -- get my boundaries mixed up.” Harry swallowed hard. “I do enjoy all of your company, but I have to remember I’m doing a job.”

Louis knew he shouldn’t feel disappointed.  Shouldn’t feel deflated. But he did anyway.  He felt chastened, and exposed, really, his skin tingling with embarrassment.

 _It’s nothing you didn’t already know, for fuck’s sake._      

“Right,” he said, weakly.  He stared at the ground, hating the way he could feel Harry’s eyes moving over him, probably apologetic.  His skin itched and he felt a wave of self-loathing, frustrated with himself for leaping from one set of irrational emotions to another so quickly.  

 _Get a fucking grip_.  

“Let’s go,” Louis said, turning sharply and hurrying back over to the screened-in porch so he could say goodbye to his mom.  “I’m ready for bed.”   

*

Almost two weeks later, Louis was one-stepping Harry on their now regular morning run, jostling Harry with his elbow and darting ahead everytime Harry tried to draw even with him.  

“You know I could outrun you if I really wanted to,” Harry huffed, stopping in the middle of the road with his hands on his hips.      

Louis didn’t even try not to grin when he turned back to look at Harry and saw the ridiculously grumpy expression on his face.  “What an annoying thing to say!” Louis pointed out.  “Taking all the fun out of it.”

“The fun?” Harry repeated, unimpressed, his chin tucked and his eyebrows raised.

Louis ignored his tone, jogging in place, still grinning.  “Yeah, the fun!  You’re actually lucky I’m forcing you to be involved in my intense training regime, Styles,” he said, gesturing loosely to Harry’s unfairly long, toned legs, as if Harry didn’t do daily calisthenics in the yard. “I’m not the only one who needs to stay in shape for my job.”  

Harry rolled his eyes, glaring at Louis for a few beats before he took off running again without warning, breezing past Louis and letting out a laugh of triumph.    

“I knew it!” Louis shouted, scrambling to catch up and pretending to be outraged at Harry’s underhanded tactics. “I knew you were actually threatened by my athletic prowess!”

“Am not,” Harry said, once Louis was beside him again.  He was slightly flushed with the exertion of running, everything about his face open and bright, and Louis couldn’t help how happy it made him to see Harry that way, his heart flipping over in his chest.       

They’d fallen into a routine since dinner at Jay’s house -- morning runs, afternoon beach reading, nightly cookouts.  Louis had soothed his initial feelings of disappointment over Harry’s little speech about boundaries by deciding it actually meant he had all the more reason to flirt with Harry, actually, since nothing could ever happen between them.  It was almost ideal, as he usually did his absolute best flirting when there were no stakes involved.  There had been a lot of banter, an overturned rowboat, and a protracted squirt gun battle in the time since.    

In the back of his mind, he knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea.  That his heart might be more vulnerable than he liked to admit, but he got such a thrill every time he got a rise out of Harry that he kept ignoring his misgivings.  It was even harder to resist when it felt like Harry was maybe flirting back.

“It’s too bad it’s my duty to protect you, and I’m like, not _allowed_ to run away,” Harry said, his breathing coming just a bit quicker than usual as they proceeded up a slight incline in the road they were running.  They were on the last stretch of their three-mile loop.  He smirked down at Louis. “Otherwise I’d already be back at the house, relaxing and having a coffee.”

“How convenient for you,” Louis snorted, elbowing Harry again and angling the path of his running to effectively cut Harry off and force him closer and closer to the bushes on the side of the road, “never having to prove your speed.”

He yelped a little, his exercise-elevated pulse shooting up higher, when Harry scooped him up under his arm and ran at the same steady pace for a few strides before setting Louis down again so they were side by side and a good foot apart.

“Show off,” Louis grumbled, his cheeks hot as he remembered how Harry had offered to pick him up the very first time they met.  How much he’d actually wanted him to.  He felt the same way now.  Harry had only been touching him for about eight total seconds, but Louis missed it already.  Felt its absence like a loss.     

“You’re lucky I didn’t set you down in a bush,” Harry laughed.  

“Oh how gentlemanly of you, setting me down!” Louis scoffed sarcastically, tugging at the bottom of his running shirt. They reached the start of the driveway to the lake house, and they turned down it, not bothering to run anymore. “Not just dumping me off in a bush, oh no! ‘Setting me down’! Sure. Sure.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled, almost as though he’d anticipated Louis’s reaction to his choice of words. “Precious cargo,” he said, unable to keep from laughing before he’d even finished saying the words.

Louis groaned, but couldn’t stop himself from joining in.  His face almost hurt from how much he’d been smiling, which truly was not his typical reaction to having to be physically active.  “Such a dedicated employee.”

They walked down the dirt road quietly for while, bits of gravel crunching under their feet and the breeze off the lake cutting through the trees and ruffling their sweat-soaked hair.  Louis was struck suddenly by what a relief it was, being at a point where he could genuinely kid around about having to have a bodyguard at all.  He chewed on the inside of his lip, wondering if he was being lulled into a false sense of security, being so far from LA.

“Have you -- “ he cleared his throat, bending down to pick up a sturdy looking stray stick.  He poked at the ground with it as they walked along, fighting his nerves. “Have you made any progress, with like.  I don’t know, figuring out who this person might be?”

Harry sighed, shaking his head.  He pulled a little at his bottom lip before he responded.  “I don’t want you to think I’m just making excuses,” he said, his mouth tugging up into a wry, half-smile, “but it probably would have been a lot easier for us if they seemed to use some kind of social media, at all.”

Louis nodded, tracing a line in the dirt with his stick now as they walked along.  “Makes it creepier to me,” he said.  “The letters -- “ he coughed and let out a humorless laugh. “I mean the pictures, too, were the worst part obviously, but… I don’t know…”

“Yeah, it’s like, sinister?” Harry said, sounding unsure if that was quite the right word, and Louis made a sound of agreement, to let him know that it was.  

“Makes it feel more personal,” Louis confirmed.    

Their pace slowed down as they got closer to the house.  It was still fairly early, well before nine, and Louis wasn’t even sure if Niall and Liam were up yet, but for some reason he didn’t want to risk them overhearing the conversation.  Wanted to keep it just between himself and Harry.

That changed in a matter of minutes because of what Harry said next.

“I have been able to rule certain people out,” he said, coming to a complete stop at a small curve in the road with a lovely little view of the lake.  

“What do you mean?”

“Just, it’s important to make sure --”  Harry swallowed, looking off-kilter all of a sudden. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s always a possibility it’s someone you’re close to.”

Louis’s eyebrows knitted and he felt his hackles raise, goosebumps spreading down the skin of his arms.  “Like who exactly?”

“Louis, it’s standard practice…”

“Who? My mother? Who the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, like your cleaning lady, and your ex-boyfriends…” Harry said.  He looked reluctant to go on, but he did anyway.  “... and Niall and Liam.”

Louis’s mouth dropped open in shock, anger and offense kicking to life inside him and running hot through his veins.  It was bad enough that Harry would have any idea about any of his ex-boyfriends, not that there were many, but Niall and Liam?

“Who do you think you are?” he asked, chucking his stupid stick away into the woods and balling his fists.  

“It’s not them, Louis,” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.  “It’s neither --”

“Of fucking course it’s not!” Louis shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Of fucking course it’s not!  What the fuck!”

“I understand being upset, but --”

“No, I don’t think you do understand!” Louis spat out.  He paced about three yards away and then rounded on Harry again, ready to yell some more, but when he saw Harry standing there, looking frustrated and beautiful in his running clothes, he couldn’t seem to even organize his thoughts enough for anything to come out.

“It’s part of my job, Louis,“ Harry implored him.

“Why do you even have to investigate at all?” Louis demanded, gesticulating wildly now. “Shouldn’t you just be like, standing around nearby! In the vicinity or whatever, ready to save me?”

“The more I know about possible threats, the easier it is for me to keep you safe.”  

Louis was in absolutely no mood for Harry to be so logical about this.  He felt like his head might blow right off.  

_So fucking rational. Jesus Christ._

“Yeah, well, stop looking into non-existent threats from people I trust a whole hell of a lot more than I trust you!” Louis shouted over his shoulder as he stomped toward the house leaving Harry standing in his wake.

He was up the stairs to the porch in an instant, bursting into the living room and stalking into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“What the hell,” Liam mumbled, blowing over the hot coffee he’d just poured.  Niall was sitting at the counter, reading the paper with a similarly baffled look on his face.  

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“No!” Louis said, after chugging his water and refilling it immediately.  “I’m not!”

They both regarded him in an irritatingly dubious manner, eyebrows raised as they waited for him to elaborate.

It took Louis about half a minute before his anger was under control enough that he could form another word, much less a sentence.

“He like -- did you guys know?  Harry was -- he checked into you guys!” he finally gasped out in outrage as he set his empty glass down in the sink.  “He like, investigated to make sure neither of you was the - the --”  He shook his hand around violently, gesturing toward Niall and Liam, uncertain of what term to use.  “The stalker person! And he just told me!  Like it would be a comfort, knowing it wasn’t you!  Like I didn’t already know it wasn’t!”

He stood for a few seconds, catching his breath as Niall and Liam blinked at him, blank-faced.  Louis felt confused and irritated that neither of them seemed to be immediately sharing his outrage upon hearing this new information.  

“Lou,” Niall said gently, giving him a look.  Louis’s irritation turned right back into anger at the realization that apparently he’d been the only one left out of the loop about this.

“What the fuck! You don’t care?” he snapped, eyes wild. “You didn’t care! You didn’t care that he was wasting his time investigating you, when you’re clearly not the ones doing this shit? You didn’t think this was something I might have wanted to be informed of?”

Liam sighed, getting up from the breakfast bar to approach Louis cautiously, a conciliatory look on his face.  “Okay,” he said, “I’m sorry.  I get why you’re upset.  Like, we should have said -- or I guess I should say, we shouldn’t have assumed it was understood that it would be happening.”

“ _What_?” Louis said sharply.  Now on top of everything else, he felt like an idiot who didn’t understand what was going on.  It wasn’t even that everyone was coddling him, withholding information, it was that he was too oblivious to understand that it should have been a given.  “Why would I have ever assumed that would be happening?”

Niall was rubbing at his left eyebrow, just like he did whenever he was uncomfortable due to confrontation.  “Well, like, okay,” he said, shifting his weight from one leg to another. “Just think about, I don’t know, Dateline or 20/20 or whatever,” he said, shrugging twice in a row in a way that made him look like a turtle emerging from its shell. “Like, it’s always the husband!”

“I know this has always been a big disappointment for you,” Louis said sarcastically, “but we’re not actually married.”

“Okay, come on, Louis,” Liam said, frowning, his eyebrows knit together, “you know what he meant.  It’s like -- it’s the people closest to you who are most likely to commit crimes against you…”

It was true.  Intellectually, Louis knew it was true, but he was still upset. He felt betrayed, almost, because it felt so much like they were siding with Harry instead of him.  That again, Louis was the irrational one.  The one who couldn’t handle anything.  Couldn’t think straight.  The one who could never be a member of Liam and Niall and Harry’s new little club for right-thinking individuals.  

Alone.  He felt all alone.  

“Lou,” Niall said, tone almost pleading, “Harry was just doing his job.  We weren’t offended.  We’re still not offended.  We’ve got nothing to hide, and I, for one, want to see him do his due diligence.”  

“That’s what we hired him to do!” Liam chimed in, a matching apologetic, but beseeching look on his face.  

“I know he’s doing a fucking job, all right?” Louis bit out, heartsore and embarrassed and still so angry even though he didn’t quite know at whom anymore. “I don’t have to like the way he’s doing it!”

He buried his head in his hands, groaning into them before he stomped off down the hallway to his bedroom and slammed the door, feeling like a dramatic teenager who’d just had an argument with his parents and absolutely hating himself for it.  

Louis could hear Niall calling out after him, but he ignored it, flopping down onto his mattress on his belly so he could feel properly sorry for himself.  He was lonely, but he couldn’t truly be alone at the moment, and he felt a sinkhole of self-pity sucking him right down into it because of that.

He lay there for hours, wallowing and sleeping and wallowing and reading a Harlan Coben novel he found in the nightstand, until Niall knocked on the door around 2:30 pm to remind him that he and Liam were leaving for the weekend.  Niall to Nashua to see his mother, and Liam to Portsmouth to see his high school sweetheart, Sophia, who’d recently gotten divorced.  

“Hey man,” Niall said, tentatively poking his head into the room, “we’re heading out in a few.”

Louis was curled on his side in bed, facing away from the door, and he debated for half a second if he should just freeze Niall out and not respond.  Maybe if it had been Liam, he would have.  Liam always seemed to bring out his more childish side.  Instead, he rolled over and plopped his book down next to him on the duvet, nodding at Niall with strategically big, forlorn eyes.  

Niall huffed out a laugh, coming fully into the room and easing the door shut behind him.  He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, smiling at Louis.  

“Sorry,” Louis whispered.

“Me too,” Niall said.

“I’m just --” Louis started, shaking his head when he couldn’t find the words.

Niall shook his head too, in understanding. “It’s a tough situation,” he said, picking up Louis’s paperback and pretending to read the summary, “but I really do think it’s going to be all right.”

Louis let out a long sigh, wondering what he would ever do if he didn’t have Niall in his life.  “How long are you staying with your mom?” he asked.

“Just till Tuesday,” Niall said.  “Greg and Denise and Theo are gonna be there, too.”

“How old is he now?”

“Turnin’ thirteen in July, can you believe?”

“It’s a miracle he survived his infancy,” Louis said, grinning when Niall rolled his eyes in response.   

Niall’s nephew Theo was born the summer before Louis and Niall and Liam decided to chase their dreams and go out to Los Angeles.  Louis had had tons of experience with babies, having so many younger siblings, and he’d been ruthless about teasing Niall on his horrible baby holding technique.  

“You have to support the head.”

“I know, thank you,” Niall said, shoving at Louis shoulder and smiling back.  He paused for a minute, still picking at the paperback cover of the book before he spoke again.  “You gonna be okay?”

Louis nodded.

“Okay, well, Harry’s around, obviously... ” Niall said.  

Louis’s heart lurched at the mention of Harry and he averted his eyes when Niall gave him a pointed look, chewing on his thumbnail like there was a lot more he could have said to Louis on the subject, but wasn’t going to.  

“Okay,” Louis said, picking his book back up as Niall climbed to his feet, relieved not to have to talk about it all the way. “Drive safe.”

“Yep!” Liam said, sticking his head into the room just as Niall got to the door.  He looked like he had a lot he wanted to say to Louis, too, but he refrained.  “See you Tuesday?”

“Yeah.  Bye, guys.”

Louis wasn’t quite ready to face Harry Styles, just yet.  Outside of a few covert trips to the kitchen for snacks and eventually beers, he stayed holed up in his room for the rest of the day and into the night, reading feverishly and ignoring the way that every creak of the floorboards outside flooded him with guilt and anger and then more guilt, all over again.  

He fell into a doze around 8:30 at night, the plot line of his Harlan Coben and the ridiculous circumstances of his own life twisting around in his mind to create a slippery dreamworld where Louis couldn’t quite pin down what was happening.  He was only aware that he was running from something, while chasing after Harry, and the threat of whatever was chasing him paled in comparison to his preoccupation with the idea that Harry might turn around and physically reject him at any moment.  

 _Why can’t I even get what I want while I’m asleep?_ he thought, still full of self-pity as he slowly woke up to the cover of darkness, several hours later.   _So much for trying to pretend I have this thing under control._   

It didn’t register right away, the reason he’d woken up in the first place, but when it did, his heart seized in his chest, his muscles locking in place as fear shot through him. One of the motion sensor lights in the yard had been tripped, and it was almost bright as day outside his window.

Louis lay in bed, wide-eyed and too terrified to even attempt to move half an inch toward peering outside and seeing what was going on.  He was stuck in that kind of adrenaline-paralyzed headspace where he was convinced if he didn’t move, no one would be able to see him.

His body seized up even more when there was a soft knock at his door.  

“Louis?” Harry Styles’s voice came through the wood, hushed and raspy.  

Louis nodded first in response before remembering to speak.  “Y-yes?” he managed, before clearing his throat.  He was trying to get his muscles to relax, simultaneously comforted by Harry’s presence and also all the more scared, because that meant Harry wasn’t the one walking around in the yard, tripping the lights.  

“Is it all right if I --” Harry sounded unsure, audibly clearing his own throat. “Can I come in?”

“Oh!” Louis leapt up quickly and was to the door within a second, easing it open to let Harry just inside.  Louis stayed close, just a few steps back, needing the proximity for comfort.    

“Um,” Harry said, his voice hushed.  He took Louis in slowly with sleepy eyes, and Louis was momentarily distracted from the issue at hand by how adorable Harry Styles looked at that moment. His hair was sticking up at a hundred odd angles, so he somehow looked like both a baby cow and a duckling at the same time.  His pajamas were just some boxers and a t-shirt, but the t-shirt was drapey and soft looking, and it fell just right on Harry’s body.  Louis wanted to reach out and fold Harry into a hug.

“Yeah?” He balled up his fists and tucked them up into the sleeves of his long sleeve t-shirt to resist the urge to touch, shivering a little at the cool breeze that was coming in through his open window.  

“Raccoons,” Harry whispered, pushing his hair out of his eyes.  “I’m like, 99% sure it’s raccoons.”

Louis’s breath came out of him in an audible whoosh, his relief obvious.  It suddenly felt ridiculous that he hadn’t thought of that before.  

 _Raccoons.  Of course raccoons. Duh._         

“I heard them trying to rummage around in the trash cans a little bit ago,” Harry said, motioning toward the side of the house the shed was on, where they kept the garbage before taking it to the dump. “Think I saw one of them.  So I just wanted to let you know it was only raccoons, and also that I’m going to go out there and make sure all the lids are on tight.”

Louis’s anxiety came rushing back.  He squirmed in place, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, what if -- “

_What if this is a trap and you’re lured out into the yard and then someone comes into the house to kill me while someone else tries to kill you?  What if this is Scream??_

“I understand your concern,” Harry said, a hint of his dimple showing. “You can come with me if you want.”

“Or,” Louis said, “another plan:  We both just stay here and go back to sleep.”

Harry giggled.  “Okay, but it will take me like three minutes, tops.”

“Haven’t you ever seen a scary movie, Styles? We are literally in a cabin in the woods!”

Harry gave him an exasperated look.  

“Why is that ridiculous? You’re here right now because I have a weirdo stalking me!  Pretending to be a raccoon does not seem beyond the realm of possibility here.”

“Well, in that case, should we really just go back to sleep?” Harry asked, “I mean, seems like probably I should call the police instead.”

The motion sensor light had turned off by this point, and it flicked back on again, illuminating the twinkle in Harry’s eye.  Louis could now hear the attempted trash rummaging for himself.

 _Okay, fine it’s really raccoons._   

“You know, I don’t appreciate you downplaying the gravity of the situation,” Louis said, popping a hip, “shaming me about wanting to call the police!  How can I come to you with my fears, if you’re like this?”

Louis had been teasing, most definitely teasing, so it hit him right in the heart to see Harry’s face fall, remorse coloring his features.  

“You’re right.” Harry held up a hand of apology, looking even more adorably cow-like with his big, sad eyes. “I-I shouldn’t have.  I’m sorry.”

“No.  No, I was just kidding.” Louis said, wincing. He surprised himself by reaching out and putting a hand on Harry’s forearm, and his whole body went warm when Harry melted at the touch, his shoulders sagging.   

Louis was reminded then of the thorny, unresolved issues from their argument that morning, realizing that they must never have been far from Harry’s mind.  He winced again internally, thinking about his behavior.  He was still upset, but he was calmer now, and could probably do a much better job of articulating why he felt the way he did.   

He was about to do so when the trash rummaging picked up again with a particularly loud bang.  It continued this time, empty beer bottles jangling against each other and rapping hard against the sturdy plastic sides of one of garbage bins.

Harry looked at him again, a hopeful question in his eyes.

“Okay, fine,” Louis said, rolling his eyes overdramatically, “have it your way.  I’ll come with you.”

They slipped out the back of the house and down the steps of the deck, shivering together when their bare feet met the cool, dewy grass at the bottom.  One of the motion sensor lights came on as they turned and headed toward the trash cans, illuminating the part of the yard immediately surrounding them.  

Louis peered around Harry, toward the wall of darkness where he knew the shed stood, feeling almost gleeful as they tiptoed across the lawn.  The air was warm and sweet and the water was lapping gently on the shore, trees rustling around them, and it all added to the feeling Louis suddenly had that they were on a summertime adventure -- something right out of Louis’s childhood.  It only seemed right that he should be huddled directly behind Harry, clutching the crook of his right elbow and using him as a protective barrier against these raccoons.  

“Scared?” Harry asked, as they moved forward, edging closer to where the light ended, and Louis’s hand tightened on his arm.

Louis shook his head. “Nope,” he whispered, and he truly wasn’t.  “Just gotta make sure it’s your eyes they go for, not mine.  My face is my livelihood.”

Harry’s chuckle rumbled through his back. “Kind of need my eyes for my job, too.”

Louis made a noise of grudging agreement and nearly collided with Harry’s back when Harry stopped short, pausing to listen to the raccoon noises that had started up once again.  Louis’s hands came up to grip the back of Harry’s upper arms, and his whole body ached with the thrill of their closeness when they started to creep toward the darkness again, like they were on a raccoon spy mission.  

Just as it occurred to Louis that they must be getting closer to tripping another motion detector, they did.  The light flicked on right in front of them, a burst of brilliance like the pop of a flashbulb, and Louis saw the scene it lit in front of him like a perfectly composed photograph.  Harry Styles -- his arms drawn up to his chest, face screwed up in disgusted terror --  directly opposite a wildly alarmed opossum the split second before it began to play dead.

Harry’s reaction to the surprise of seeing the animal at such close range was to let out the most incredibly undignified shriek and whirl around to launch himself into Louis’s arms.

“What the fuuuuuuck,” Harry whined, cowering against Louis.  His chin came to rest on Louis’s shoulder so they were essentially hugging. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Louis couldn’t respond at first; he was too busy laughing.  Laughing in that deep tissue soreness kind of way, the entire core of his body shaking.  

“It’s a ‘possum,” he got out, at last, between gasps of laughter. “You’ve seen a ‘possum before! You must have!”

Harry only made another slight whining sound in response that somehow succeeded in communicating that he had in fact heard of opossums.  “Okay, but like...”  Harry’s voice was coming out all high pitched and theatrically unhappy, and Louis didn’t know if he’d ever been so endeared or amused in his life.  “No one tells you about the smell.”

Louis burst out laughing all over again.  It was true.  It absolutely reeked.  Pungent, like decaying meat.  He’d purposely kept his arms at his sides, not wanting to overstep, but when Harry started laughing too, vibrating with it, Louis couldn’t help but raise a hand up and settle in carefully in the middle of Harry’s back.  

“Smells like -- like rotting fish?” Harry said, not quite sure, but definitely still whiny.  “Gross.”    

Louis chuckled more, nodding in agreement.   _Don’t be a creep_.   _Don’t be a creep, please._ “I didn’t even know ‘possums got into the garbage,” he said, striving for normalcy and still cradling Harry loosely in his arms in the most nonchalant way possible, even though the experience was an ongoing thrill for him.      

“That face!” Harry said, shivering against Louis in disgust and shaking with silent laughter at the same time. “I’ll never forget.  Beady little eyes.”

“I’m sure he’ll never forget yours either, Styles,” Louis snorted.  “Like a scaredy-cat T-Rex.”

“A what?” Harry asked.  He leaned back in Louis’s embrace to give him a look of disbelief.

Louis laughed, nodding.  “A scaredy-cat T-rex, with your arms all short!” he said, demonstrating quickly before casually returning his hand to Harry’s spine.  

“I did not look like that!” Harry’s protest was weak, though, and pleased.  He was clearly the type of person who loved to be teased, and Louis went warm because of it.  He went even warmer when he registered how gently Harry was regarding him, and from so close up.      

“You did,” Louis whispered, swallowing hard and not breaking eye contact as a sparking ache of longing bloomed in his chest.

The harsh glare of the lights seemed to bend around Harry, and he looked younger than Louis had ever seen him -- all eyelashes and dimples and rounded cheeks -- everything so perfectly rosy and soft and sweet. Something protective came to life inside Louis.  He wanted to preserve Harry Styles this way.  Preserve them _both_ like this -- seemingly worry-free on a summer’s night, their only concern how much they could make each other laugh.

“Didn’t,” Harry insisted in a hitching murmur, his eyes never leaving Louis’s. Louis ached to reach up and cradle Harry’s face, smooth his thumbs over the perfect cut of Harry’s jaw and trace the lovely contour of his cheekbone.  Touch his lips.  

 _His lips_.

Louis was staring at Harry’s lips and the blood in his veins was pounding so powerfully now that he wouldn’t have been surprised if his pulse was visible in his throat.  His breathing was shallow and quick.

“Lou,” Harry whispered.  He teetered closer and then drifted back, seemingly warring with indecision, and Louis was about to make the choice for both of them, just rising up on the balls of his feet with his breath caught in his chest and his skin tingling, when the lights turned back off.    

They’d been relatively still for so long that the lights had gone off around them, and they both tensed in surprise.  It wasn’t enough to trip the sensors again, though, so they were just standing together in the dark, bathed in an awkward self-awareness about what had been about to happen.  

Harry cleared his throat and stepped back, shielding his eyes against the returning light.  There were bright blush spots high on his cheeks.  He looked flustered and contrite.  Louis’s heart sank, even though he understood.

 _Boundaries.  Let’s not get our boundaries mixed up._   

“I suppose we should --” Harry shook his head, clearing his throat again and then gesturing to the rigid opossum, several feet away. “I suppose we should check the trash cans in case this guy had some friends.”

Louis nodded, sighing deeply.

They finished the task at hand quickly after that, righting two bins and replacing the cover on another.  They were walking back up the steps of the deck when Louis decided to bite the bullet.

“I’m --” he coughed into a fist, “I’m sorry about earlier --”

Harry turned around at the top of the stairs, shaking his head. “No --”

“I am, okay! I mean, I’m still upset, but --”

Harry cut him off again, shaking his head with his arms crossed.  “Let’s have a beer,” he said, nodding toward the screened-in porch, where they would be safe from the ravaging mosquitos, “and talk.”

They had a short, silent conversation with a series of looks, Louis cocking an eyebrow to remind Harry of what he’d said at Louis’s mom’s, and Harry giving him a look back pointing out that they’d already clearly crossed some kind of line just minutes before, even if they were sort of ignoring it.  

“Okay,” Louis agreed.

Three minutes later they were settling in on the porch, and Louis’s stomach was fluttering with nerves in anticipation of the discussion they were about to have.  “I can’t believe your beer of choice is Hefeweizen,” he said, teasing in an attempt to calm himself.  

“Drinking wheat beer is a normal thing,” Harry informed him rather snootily, as he sat down across the table.

“Yeah, for people with horrible taste in beer.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t try to tell me I’m wrong about my own tastebuds, okay?”

Louis laughed. “Fine,” he said, wiggling around on his chair a little bit.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was vetting Niall and Liam,” Harry said, jumping right in.  He took a pull of his beer. “I know things like that can be very touchy --”

“I should have known, though,” Louis said, apologetically, “like Li and Ni said --”

Harry shook his head. “No, no.  It should have been explicitly communicated to you.  I know we talked about this already, but like, one talk isn’t enough.  It was never going to be enough.  I should be doing a much better job of communicating with you, and I keep dropping the ball.”  He put a hand on his chest.  “I don’t want you to be in the dark about anything that’s going on.  That’s not my style.  I’m never going to keep stuff from you so you don’t have to worry.”

Louis nodded, his whole body relaxing into his chair.  It was exactly what he’d needed to hear.    

“You need to have all the information to make decisions.  Or to approve decisions that I want to make.”

Louis took a deep breath.  “I know I keep overreacting about everything.  I just -- like I was legitimately upset about not being told about that. But like, I don’t know why… I don’t know why I can’t like.  Get a grip.”

Harry bit his lip, his eyes soft as he looked at Louis from across the table.  He huffed out a laugh.  “At the risk of sounding like I think I’m a registered psychologist again, I think the emotional reaction you’re having to all of this is completely normal.”

Louis blushed suddenly, all the conflicting feelings of shame and anger he’d been battling with since all of this began bubbling up inside him.  He shrugged, a little choked up with emotion before he started speaking again. “I guess like, the truth is -- I don’t know.  I’m - I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Harry repeated, his voice free of judgment.  He was simply looking for clarification.

Louis nodded, clutching his beer bottle tight. “Yeah.  Like, first, I’m not even that famous, so like why is this happening to me?  And then like, I think about how I am famous, and I feel like I brought it on myself.   And then I think about how big of a wimp I am, not being able to deal with it on my own.  And then I can’t even control my own emotions and I feel embarrassed about that, like I’m pathetic.  I feel pathetic.”  He gave a watery laugh, shaking his head and burying his burning face in his arms.  He hadn’t even fully realized he’d been feeling all of that. “And now I’m rambling and I’m like even more embarrassed to have said that…”

“Louis,” Harry said, and he waited for Louis to peek up at him before he started to talk.  “It is absolutely not your fault.”

“But I like, invited people in --”

“Hey,” Harry said, his voice even and firm and his eyes intent on Louis’s, “leading a public life doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to privacy or personal safety.  And listen, do you think the majority of people who are getting stalked and harassed are famous?”      

They shook their heads together.  Recognition washed over Louis, thinking about all the everyday women who put up with bullshit all the time. “See!” he said, distraught, “I’m like completely un-self-aware!  This has turned me into a spoiled brat who only thinks about himself.”

Harry was shaking his head again. “Louis, this person took away part of your control over your own life.  It’s not fair what has happened and what is happening to you.  This is an emotionally traumatic thing, and you have to cut yourself some slack.”

Louis nodded, still choked up, a few tears sneaking out over the edge of his eyes.  Something clenched inside, bittersweet and sharp, and his face flamed further.  He felt at that moment that he might be in love with Harry Styles.  

 _You’re just confused because -- because he’s so nice._      

“Why are -- how -- why are you so good at this?” he managed to get out.  

Harry let out an apologetic laugh.  “Well, clearly I’m not, if it took us this long to discuss it.”

“You know what I mean.”

Harry played with his beer bottle, rolling it around in the circle of his fingers. “I’ve had like --” he swallowed hard, shaking his head as his lips curved into a tiny, self-deprecating smile. “I have experience myself dealing with um, with trauma.  With like, recovering from it…”

Louis inhaled a short, sharp breath.  He’d suspected as much subconsciously, but having it confirmed felt like a blow to the chest.    

Harry shrugged. “I saw some people die, had to -- had to um, kill -- ” he took a deep breath, and scrunched up his face, like he was suppressing memories he didn’t want to have, “I didn’t talk about it for a while after, and it got really bad.  My mom had to force me into therapy.  I was a mess -- sometimes I’m still a mess.”

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispered.

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry said, taking a sip of his beer, “for both of us.  There’s no shame in needing help, Louis.  I know it’s hard and seems so easy for me to just say this stuff, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing at all, for you to talk to a professional.”

Louis laughed softly, even though so much of his feeling about the overall situation still felt prickly and difficult in his chest. “An actual registered psychologist?”

Harry nodded, his eyes warm.  He looked at Louis for a little while, his chest rising and falling slowly.  Then he shook his head.  

“What?” Louis whispered.

Harry sighed. “This isn’t what I expected --” he shook his head again. “Maybe I should have known, when I saw you, but I -- I’ve never had a client… ”

“What do you mean?” Louis felt almost guilty for pressing, but he couldn’t stop himself.  His pulse was galloping.   

“This is new for me too,” Harry explained.  “I’m used to, I don't know, currying around lazy old diplomats to like, Belgium, who were only in danger of falling asleep in meetings.”  He tugged at an ear and then ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it. “I’ve never needed or -- or wanted -- to take care of someone’s, um -- ” he blushed then, continuing in a whisper, tucking his face into his shoulder a little. “I’ve never wanted to take care of someone’s feelings so much before.”

Louis’s breath caught again, his heart stuttering in his chest as a shiver of emotion ran through his whole body.  He was floored.  Everything felt beautifully tender -- his heart, his skin, somehow the air around them.     

“ _Harry_ \--” he choked out.  

Harry laughed, his face still tucked into his shoulder, but Louis could see him roll his eyes at himself. “I keep lecturing myself about boundaries, and I just keep crossing them...”

Louis wanted to cross one right now.  Wanted to run right by it and never, ever look back.  If he’d thought he’d wanted to kiss Harry -- to touch him -- earlier that night, it was absolutely nothing compared to now.  He was trembling with it, the need inside him so big it felt apocalyptic.  Like if he didn’t act on it he would burst apart and be reabsorbed into the cosmos.

“Harry,” Louis whispered again.  He snaked his hand across the table to take Harry by the wrist, silently urging him to look up at him with soothing sweeps of his thumb.  

Harry let out a wavering laugh when he finally did, making a low sound of pleasure at what he saw in Louis’s eyes.  “It’s like -- “ Harry said, “It’s like I’ve been scared to talk to you about these important things because -- “ he inhaled and exhaled, slow and shaky, “because I know I want to be close to you, and I’m worried about what’ll happen if I am…”

Louis nodded, his whole body lit up like a candle.  He kept stroking the skin on the inside of Harry’s wrist.  

Harry took another shaky breath.  “We can’t --”

“I know,” Louis whispered, “I know.”  He smiled at Harry, his heart twisting with joy and disappointment all at once.  “But for the record, I want to be close to you, too.”

They shuffled down the hallway to bed together about fifteen minutes later, lingering in their respective doorways and giving each other shy smiles as they said good night.  Louis only tried to prevent himself from imagining scenarios where Harry was his forever life-partner for a little while, once he got in bed.

 _Just let yourself have this.  Since you can’t really… you can’t._  

*

Their remaining weeks at the lake house melted away quickly, like time always seems to when you don’t need to be keeping particularly good track of the days of the week. It felt like Louis blinked and the Fourth of July was behind them, his book tour looming ahead, less than a week away.  

The closer the tour dates grew, the tenser Harry became.  He’d taken to setting up shop in the living room with his laptop and pouring over venue diagrams for hours, taking what looked like very precise notes and talking to God knows who on the phone.  

Louis liked to sit on the porch while he was reading and angle himself so he could watch Harry work at the same time.  Whenever Harry looked particularly stressed out, the furrow between his eyebrows becoming especially pronounced and his mouth set in a line, Louis would take off his shirt and wander down to the lake, knowing that Harry wouldn’t be far behind.  

“Are you actually going in the water this time?” Harry asked, one afternoon, about five days before they had to leave for Boston, the first city on the tour. “Or did you just lure me down here to watch you sunbathe?”

Louis smirked, reclining on his lounge chair.  “Haven’t decided.”

Harry nodded, sitting down sideways on the edge of the chair next to Louis and smiling at him in that special way he did, now, whenever they were alone.  Louis couldn’t get enough of it.  It was open and warm and teasing and sexy all at once, full of mutual understanding of mutual attraction, and Louis thought it might actually kill him one of these days.  

Louis stretched his arms over his head, in a way that he knew displayed his biceps and his torso to his best advantage, grinning shamelessly when he felt Harry’s eyes roving over his body. “You’re probably all set for the tour at this point, huh?”

“Getting closer,” Harry mused.  His expression turned thoughtful, even as his eyes continued to flick over Louis, still taking him in.  “You’re probably not, though.”

Louis went up on his elbows, mildly offended and frowning.  He shoved his sunglasses up on the top of his head so he could get a better look at Harry.  “What?  What do you mean?  I feel ready, I’m not like -- I’m not going to get all upset again.”

“Louis,” Harry said, sighing and shaking his head, “it’s okay for you to get upset, but that’s not what I mean.”

Louis blinked at Harry and shifted in his chair, wiping at the small amount of sweat that had gathered on his brow.   

“The most important part of self-defense -- of protecting yourself -- is to be aware of your surroundings,” Harry explained.  “So, yes, I’ve studied up on all the places we’ll be over the next few weeks, but you’re going to have to be briefed, too.”  

Louis nodded in understanding, relaxing back down on the chaise lounge with a resigned sigh.

Harry poked him in the shoulder, smiling at him again. “I’m not going to let you go into any of these situations blind,” he said, “because you need to be able to make good choices on your own, if a bad situation arises, and I’m not able to get to you right away.  Which is why you’re also going to have to learn a little self-defense.”

“What do you mean, like going for the balls or hitting someone on the ear?” Louis said, swinging an open palm through the air to demonstrate his best ear-smacking method.

“Yes,” Harry said, huffing out a laugh. “And other stuff, too…”

“When do I have to do this learning?”

“No time like the present,” Harry said, with a grin and a shrug as he got to his feet.  “Probably should have started weeks ago, actually.”

“Well, I’m going to be a very quick study.  I’ve seen Miss Congeniality, so I’ve got all the basics down,” Louis announced proudly, excitement revving up inside him in anticipation of what was clearly going to be an excellent opportunity to flirt.

“Oh, nevermind then,” Harry laughed.  He made a show of dropping back down onto his chaise lounge. “Say no more.  Lesson over before it even started.”

Louis snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You know, they used that clip in Navy SEALs training,” Harry said, giggling too as he stood up again. “Just pulled it right up on Youtube and sat back and let us absorb.”

“Shut up,” Louis said, still laughing as he got to his feet and reached out to whack Harry on the shoulder. His breath caught when Harry grabbed his wrist instead, whirling him easily around and pulling him back against his chest.

 _Shit._   

Louis’s heart leapt and then started doing double time. He felt hyperaware of all of their points of contact, but the way Harry’s strong arm banded across his chest and pinned Louis’s wrist in place there was the most excruciatingly perfect.  It felt the complete opposite of threatening, and Louis could have stood there in the tree-filtered sunlight all afternoon, letting Harry hold him that way.  Savoring the sweet, protective torture of it.    

Harry cleared his throat after a few beats, his voice still rough when he spoke again. “In all seriousness, the info in Miss Congeniality isn't terrible,” he said.  “Going for the groin is a good idea, when you have a clear chance at a direct hit.”

Louis let out a little laugh. “A direct hit.”

“Yes, a direct hit,” Harry confirmed. Louis could feel him roll his eyes, even though he couldn’t see him.  “Anyway, we’ll start with some holds, so you can get some practice breaking them.”

Something hot and reckless untethered inside Louis at Harry’s words, and he realized he wanted to try to break Harry, instead.  Wanted to make absolutely sure he was feeling the same maddening frustration over their physical contact that Louis was.   

 _This is a bad idea.  It’s a bad a idea..._   

“Okay,” he said, keeping his tone as innocent as possible as he purposely pressed back against Harry’s body, almost imperceptibly, digging his toes into the cool grass to ground himself a little.  “What should I do?”   

“Well, to start with...”  Harry shifted his body subtly back from Louis’s, but Louis only followed, keeping the top of his ass nestled gently against Harry’s crotch.  Louis knew he was being ridiculous, but he couldn’t stop.  “Ideally you would be aware enough of your surroundings not to get into a situation like this, where the attacker successfully came at you from behind. If you feel threatened in any way, the best thing you can do is to get away from that threat, okay?  Even if it’s just a weird gut feeling about someone.  Like, just leave as quickly as you can.”  

Louis nodded, bringing one of his hands up to grab Harry’s forearm where it rested on his chest.  It was a warm day.  Louis was spritzed with a sheen of sweat, but Harry’s skin was still dry and cool, and Louis tallied a little victory in his heart when his touched raised goosebumps on Harry’s arm.

“If you do get into a situation where you’re being attacked, you aren’t breaking these holds to stay and fight,” Harry went on, “you’re breaking them so you can run away.”

Louis nodded again, swallowing hard and shifting his weight to feel the muscles of Harry’s torso against his back.  They were tantalizingly firm under the soft cotton of Harry’s t-shirt, and Louis rolled his eyes, realizing that he was probably only succeeding in riling himself up further, at the moment.  

“Do you understand?” Harry pressed.  His deep voice was steady and serious, and Louis shivered as it zipped through his body, his skin flushing with pleasure at Harry’s obvious concern for him.  

So many of the things that had initially irritated him about Harry -- his easy capability and confidence, his thoughtful, rational manner -- just fed into Louis’s out-of-control attraction to him, now.  Louis’s cock was starting to thicken up in his swim trunks, but Louis truly didn’t care.  He only cared about Harry being on the same page, and he shifted his weight again, squeezing at Harry’s forearm as he moved against him, nodding.

“You’ll have to learn to suppress what might be your natural, instinctive reactions to being attacked,” Harry explained. He changed his hold on Louis twice in quick succession, first a loose demonstration of a chokehold and then what was essentially a hug.

The hug wasn’t loose at all.  It had Louis’s arms pinned to his sides and Harry pressed right up against him, even more closely than ever -- chest to knee -- and Louis wondered, skin burning, if Harry had any idea at all that his natural, instinctive reaction to this was to choke down a whimper and bite his lip.  Harry must have been must be able to feel the rapid-fire beat of his heart at this point, hammering so sharply and erratically in his ribcage that it felt like a ricocheting bullet.

“Now, if someone gets you in a bear hug like this from behind...” Harry went on.  The only evidence that Louis’s proximity was having any effect on him at all was a slight hoarseness that had crept into his voice. “Your first instinct might be to struggle against it with your shoulders, but that’s not a good idea.  Try it, though.  Go ahead.”

Louis started to wriggle like a fish, fighting against the tight hold Harry had around his arms and torso by jerking his shoulders from side to side.  Despite the fact that Louis was actually putting all of his effort into it, Harry barely had to adjust his footing; he just absorbed all of Louis’s energy and lifted him slightly off his feet.  

“Mostly what you’ll do with that method is tire yourself out,” Harry explained, relaxing the circle of his arms as he set Louis back down, but staying behind him. “What you actually want to do in a situation like this is to take advantage of the fact that your attacker has committed their hands to caging you in.  That takes a very important defensive weapon away from them.”

"Okay,” Louis said, nodding and concentrating on committing everything Harry was saying to memory. As much as he wanted to bring Harry to his knees, he also wanted to learn.  He wanted to impress Harry and turn him on at the same time.  

“Now, some people recommend a headbutt or a foot stomp in this type of attack,” Harry continued, “but I’ve always thought a foot stomp can be too easy to evade and that a headbutt can disorient you as well as your attacker...”

“Well,” Louis said, amused by the tinge of impatience in Harry’s voice as he gave Louis the information, as though he thought these other self-defense experts needed to get their shit together, already, and learn the right strategies. Harry’s strategies. “What do _you_ suggest then?”

Harry took a deep breath before stepping back slightly and dropping his arms out of the bear hug so he could place his hands on Louis’s hips.  His strong fingers fanned out over Louis’s hip flexors, thumbs digging slightly into his lower back, and Louis gasped, his blood singing.  

It only got worse when Harry spoke.

“You’ve still got motion in your hips,” he said, squeezing at them gently. He’d lowered his voice to a whisper, and his breath brushed past Louis’s ear, raising the hair on the back of Louis’s neck and making him tremble just a little bit. “See?”

Louis squeezed his eyes shut, burning with self-consciousness over his unrelenting, pounding arousal when Harry began to move his hips from side to side to illustrate his point.  Louis could feel his pulse leaping in his belly and throat and the heat of his cheeks.     

“They’re not --” Harry cleared his throat, still rocking Louis’s hips from side to side in front of him, only an inch or two separating their bodies.  “Your hips aren’t incapacitated by the hold…”

“Right,” Louis whispered.  Feeling almost wicked, and strangely elated by it, Louis arched his back slightly and circled his hips inside the guidance of Harry’s hands, knowing exactly how it would look to Harry from such a tight angle. He barely contained a whine when Harry’s fingers tightened on him even more in response.

“Y-You’re, um, you’re right-handed?” Harry murmured, finally pausing with Louis’s pelvis swung to the left.  

Louis nodded, unable to speak.

“Okay, so,” Harry swallowed audibly, taking a deep, hitching breath. He let go of Louis’s hips, but before Louis could feel too disappointed about the loss of contact, his arms were closing around him again, pulling Louis back into an awkward bear hug.  Louis’s hips were still canted to the side, but his back was pressed against Harry’s front, and he could feel the intoxicating beat of Harry’s heart and the jut of Harry’s nipples against his bare shoulder blades.  

“So,” Harry rasped again, apparently trying to gather himself before he went on, “so, um.  Now that your hips are positioned like -- um.  Like that.  You would swing them to the side like that, and you’d just bring your right arm down very forcefully, and you’d have -- you’d have a pretty good shot at my -- at your, um, attacker’s groin…”

Louis nodded, wide-eyed.  He was more than half hard now, and he was desperate to know what he’d find if he did just that -- lowered his hand and pressed it back against Harry’s crotch.      

They stood together for a minute, their breathing synced up in slow, measured breaths as the sun beat down on them and the water gurgled around them.  Louis was so achingly turned on he couldn’t resist, he had to confirm for sure he wasn’t alone in all of it.  He bit the inside of his lip and then squinted back into the sunlight to sneak a quick look at Harry over his shoulder, desperate for a glimpse of the state of his face.  When Louis saw the deep flush mottling Harry’s cheekbones and the beaded sweat on his brow, his head snapped forward again, adrenaline ripping loose inside him like a rising tide.     

He made his choice.  

“Like this?” he asked.  He used the same tone of coy innocence he had when they’d first begun, slowly lowering his right hand down, inch by shaky inch, to Harry’s crotch.     

The strangled noise that broke out of Harry’s chest when Louis palmed him through his mesh shorts might have been the single most beautiful thing Louis had ever heard.  

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry gasped, bucking once into Louis’s grip before he regained control over himself.  Only enough to knock Louis’s hand away, though, jerking Louis’s hips back into place in front of him and pulling their bodies flush together.    

Louis made a frustrated, cut-off sound of his own at the feel of Harry’s erection pressing against his ass.   

“You were teasing me on purpose, weren’t you?” Harry asked, breathless.  He clutched at the sides of Louis’s shoulders, unknowingly pressing his fingers into the start of the sunburn Louis was developing.  Louis relished the sting of it. “Weren’t you?”  

Louis waited a long beat and then nodded once, sharply, using every last shred of his willpower not to grind back against Harry and moan.  He felt unapologetic yet guilty at the same time, and his whole body was throbbing with longing.  

“Fuck,” Harry groaned, pressing impossibly closer and eliciting a tiny whimper from Louis. “I loved it,” he admitted, stricken and aroused in equal measure, just like Louis. “I _love_ it.  I want -- fuck, Louis.” If it hadn’t been bad enough before, Harry nuzzled into the crook of Louis’s neck then, murmuring his next few words against Louis’s delicate skin and sounding like he was about to go out of his mind, if he hadn’t already. “Jesus Christ, Louis. We’re not supposed -- but I want -- _God_ \-- ”  

Louis made another small, plaintive sound, his eyes wider than ever before.  Harry’s response was exactly what he’d been hoping and trying for, but for some reason he still felt utterly stunned by it, so dizzied by Harry’s words that if Harry weren’t holding him, Louis would have been unsteady on his feet.

He’d never seen Harry so undone, and it made him feel both heady with power and paralyzed with nerves.  He wanted so much with Harry, it didn’t feel like his body and brain could contain it all.  

They just stood together again for a while, breathing in unison with their bodies pressed together.  Not moving a muscle to keep the atmosphere from shattering around them.  

“Lou,” Harry sighed again, after three minutes or ten or fifteen, Louis wasn’t sure.  He pulled back slightly and rested his forehead on Louis’s shoulder and then his chin, his hands dropping from Louis’s upper arms to search out his hands. “What are we going to do?”

Louis laced their fingers together and moved their hands to his stomach, letting Harry’s arms encircle him. “I don’t know…” he whispered.  “I don’t know.”  

He felt Harry shake his head behind him.  “This is so unprofessional, Louis, I’m so sorry…”  Harry sounded agonized and upset with himself.  He moved to take his hands away, but Louis wouldn’t have it. He squeezed Harry’s fingers instead, pulling him closer. “I can’t -- I don’t know if I can --  Maybe you should find --”

Louis absolutely did not like where Harry’s train of thought was going.

 _He can’t go.  He can’t leave.  I’ll --_  

“Don’t --” Louis choked out. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered, fighting against the disappointment that was welling up inside of him about having to make the right choice.  He wanted to make the wrong one so badly.     

“It’s my responsibility,” Harry insisted, finally extracting himself from Louis’s grasp and coming to stand in front of him.  Coming to look at him with dejection all over his face.  

Louis shook his head rapidly.  “No.  No, I shouldn’t have, Harry.  I shouldn’t have.  And I’m sorry.  It was my mistake.”

Just as Harry opened his mouth to speak again, brow furrowing in protest, his watched chimed and they heard the familiar crunch of tires coming up the long driveway.  

 _Fuck._   

Liam and Niall were back from their run to the grocery store in Keene with two of Louis’s sisters in tow.  The two he hadn’t seen all summer.    

“Shit,” Harry cursed under his breath.  

Louis let out a joyless chuckle of agreement, burying his face in his hands.    

“I guess we’ll, um,” Harry sounded embarrassed and unsure, and Louis hated it, “we’ll have pick up again tomorrow?”

_What were you thinking?  Putting him in this position.  Pushing it so far, you selfish bastard.  You did this._

“Yeah…” Louis whispered, wishing he didn’t feel like something was slipping out of his grasp.  Wishing he didn’t know there was absolutely no way Harry would be teaching him self-defense without anyone else around, now.    

When Louis took his head out of his hands, Harry was looking at him, no trace of his secret smile on his face.  There was only worry there, and it was all the confirmation Louis needed to know that he’d upset the delicate balance they’d been maintaining between them the past few weeks.  

The satisfying _chunk_ of a car door shutting pulled Louis’s attention away, and he looked up just in time to see his sisters tumbling out of their faithful rental car.  

“Louis!” they shouted, wending their way over to him, eyes bright.  

Louis couldn’t believe sometimes how old they’d gotten without him around.  They were both out of college, now, basically adults, and he’d been a continent away for most of it.      

“How are you?” he said, grinning from ear to ear, hoping they hadn’t see his eyes glistening before he enveloped them both in a hug.  

They both chorused positive responses, but all Louis was really focusing on was Harry Styles over their shoulders, looking endeared but distressingly pensive.  Louis could practically feel him closing off as the seconds ticked by and the gears turned in Harry’s head.  

 _You are an idiot,_ Louis thought. _A complete idiot.  A ruiner._     

*

Louis was absolutely right about having upset the precarious balance he and Harry had built together by pushing things too far.  They spent the last few days leading up to the book tour studying the venue diagrams for the early tour stops and going over the self-defense methods that Harry wanted to make sure Louis knew, but whenever Louis flirted, or even teased, Harry would find a way to shut it down.  Politely.  Too polite.  

Harry was all business.  It broke Louis’s heart more than his pride would let him show, so as the days went on, he started being all business right back.

The hubbub of starting the tour should have distracted Louis from some of it.  It was nice, seeing everyone from his TV show family again and catching up, but at the same time, Louis felt himself showing off with them for Harry’s benefit.  Could feel himself hoping and wishing that Harry was watching as he talked to them, made them laugh, basked in their adoration.  

_See?  See?  People like me.  They love me.  See what you’re missing?  I’m wonderful._

It seemed to work out the opposite way, with everyone from his co-stars, Paul and Rupal, to the showrunner, Aniyah, making a point to tell Louis how handsome, charming, and polite his new bodyguard was, even though it was such a shame Louis needed to have him at all.  

Even the reactions that played into Louis’s daydreams about Harry wanting him only made it worse, since he now knew for absolute sure that nothing would ever happen.  

“What’s the deal there?” Rupal asked after their reunion dinner, her beautiful eyes zeroing right in on Louis, a mischievous look on her face.  She could smell gossip at fifty paces, Louis would have sworn to God.  

“What? Nothing? Where? What do you mean?”  Louis was sure his ears were bright red because Rupal’s eyes turned knowing, like she knew exactly what Louis was hoping to hear.  

“With your hottie bodyguard?”

Louis shrugged, all false nonchalance.  “He’s just my bodyguard.”

“Seemed to look at you an awful lot during dinner,” she said, smirking and raising her perfect eyebrows.  “When you were looking elsewhere.”

“That’s his job, Roopz,” Louis pointed out, tugging at his suddenly constricting collar.  

“If you say so, Tommo.”  She wandered off to talk to Niall, but not before raising her eyebrows at Louis suggestively one last time.

Louis tucked the little sliver of hope that Harry was still thinking about him that way into his heart, so it ached all the more when he got a momentary glimpse of the old Harry right before the first tour event, when Louis’s re-emerging anxiety had been particularly obvious.    

“It’s going to be all right,” Harry said, just after Louis had finished getting his hair done at his hotel room.  The stylist had gone next door to Rupal’s, and Harry was sitting on the edge of the king-size bed.  Harry made eye contact with Louis in the mirror, smile soft.

Louis huffed out a little laugh, wringing his hands and turning everything over in his mind again.  

All of June, they’d been posting pictures of rural Colorado to Louis’s Instagram.  Some of them from Louis’s social-media-undocumented trip there the summer before, and some of them courtesy of Harry’s old Navy buddy, Zayn, who lived outside of Denver.  He helped them match the old picture posts up with the current weather and provided some nice nature shots of his own.  

The misdirection seemed to have worked, as there had been only one new letter sent to Louis’s house in Los Angeles since they’d been away.  It had come just the week before and had wished Louis a nice vacation in Colorado, but contained a seemingly new picture from the inside of Louis’s house.  

The letter had been postmarked in Youngstown, Ohio, though, not California, and Harry had been able to establish that the picture had been developed at a Walgreen’s nearby there, and wasn’t actually new.  

Louis felt terrified that this person was just making their way across the United States, getting ready to surprise him at his first book signing.       

“Listen to me, Louis,” Harry said, standing up and placing a light hand on Louis’s shoulder, still looking at him in the mirror, “people are going to be screened as they come into the bookstore.  If the store has a problem with that, we’ll pull you out of the event, okay?  It should not be a problem, though, because I talked to them about it last week and the week before that.”

Louis nodded, swallowing thickly and rubbing his palms on his pant legs.  

“If things gets bad, you know the exits,” Harry reminded, hand still a reassuring presence on Louis’s shoulder.  “Where are the exits?”

“Two to the left and right back of the signing table.  One to the front.  One out of the basement if worse comes to worst,” Louis recited from memory, visualizing the layout of the midsized bookstore they were going to that day.

“And I will be there,” Harry said.  “I will be right behind you.”

Louis had to work hard not to make a stinging crack about the last time Harry had been right behind him, and how well that had gone afterward.  He saw Harry read it off his face in the mirror and watched Harry’s expression shift from comforting to regretful in an instant.

“Lou --”

“Don’t, please,” Louis said, fluffing out the deep-red cashmere sweater he was wearing for the signing.  It was enough inside his character, Marlon Brooks’s, fashion wheelhouse to be familiar to the fans, but it wasn’t anything Louis had worn on the show before.

Their eyes met in the mirror again, and for a second Louis saw Harry’s walls come all the way down, like a bittersweet sun coming out from behind a cloud.  

“Now who’s going to prom?” Harry asked in a whisper, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.  

Louis’s laughter got caught in his chest.  He couldn’t smile back. He was too upset.  Mad, and sad, and hurt, really.  His skin heated up with the intensity of his emotional response, shame and vulnerability washing over him because he knew Harry could see it all.    

“Can you wait outside, please?” he asked, avoiding eye contact as he pretended to fuss with his hair.

“Yes, I can do that,” Harry said.  His gaze lingered on Louis for a moment, but then he complied.     

Louis stared at himself in the mirror after Harry left, trying to convince himself he’d really wanted him to go.  

*

Boston, New York, and Philadelphia went off without a hitch.  The crowds were reasonably sized and well managed, and Harry shadowed Louis closely, a constant, comforting presence.  

The closer they drew to Ohio, though, the more anxious Louis got.  The night before their signing in Pittsburgh, he barely slept.  Something felt off that day before they even got to the venue.  

 _Youngstown’s only an hour away.  Only an hour’s drive away,_ was what was running through his mind on repeat on the drive over.  Louis squirmed in his seat, wanting to remind Harry of that fact, but also not wanting to attempt to talk to him at all.  

Harry was irritable as soon as they got to the bookstore, which had double-booked itself with a children’s read-aloud event and Louis’s panel, so the signing tables had been set up in a way that Harry didn’t approve of.  

“This is bullshit,” he muttered, eyes flashing as he looked around, presumably for someone to yell at.  “I specifically told them you couldn’t do the signing in the loft -- I told them!”

Louis swallowed, his throat already half-constricted with anxiety.  “It’s okay,” he croaked out.  Fans had gotten there early, in larger numbers than expected, and were already complaining loudly about having to wait outside in the heat.  

“You don’t have to do this,” Harry said, trying and failing to catch Louis’s eye.  “You can tell them no, this isn’t what we discussed.”

“No,” Louis said, pulling at the collar of his button-down shirt. “No, I want to do it.”

“Are you sure?  Because --”

“I’m sure,” Louis snapped, starting up the stairs to the partial floor where the book signing would take place. “Leave it.”

Harry had to stand at the top of the stairs, farther away from Louis than normal, in order to regulate the flow of fans up and down the stairs, which only served to piss him off further.  He kept muttering under his breath about not holding events if you can’t run them correctly, and Louis knew if it were entirely up to Harry they would have left already.  He didn’t want to disappoint the people who had come out to see them, though, and he felt a little contrary again, like he had something to prove.

Which is probably why he made the mistake that he did, when they’d been signing for about twenty-five minutes.  

Louis was stationed at the far end of the table, so fans went down the line through Aniyah, and Paul, and Rupal, before they got to him.  Then they proceeded back to the stairs and down out of the loft.  Louis was signing and smiling and signing, trying to keep it out of his mind that any one of these people could be _the one_ \-- his stalker --  when a boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve came through the line.

 _You are definitely not the one,_ Louis thought, absolutely sure for the first time that day.       

“Could I get a picture?” the boy asked, as Louis signed his copy of the book.  “You’re my favorite character of all time.  Marlon is, I mean. I want to be a CPA when I grow up.  I like numbers.”

Louis glanced up at the boy, blinking and momentarily torn.  The policy was no pictures; it slowed the line down too much.  But this kid was cute.  Clearly a little nerdy, overenthusiastic in a way that reminded Louis of himself as a child.  

And he wasn’t the one.  

“Sure,” Louis said, smiling and standing up to come around the table for the picture.  

He didn’t anticipate the way the rest of crowd would respond to this, which was to start to slowly converge around him, eager to get their turn for a selfie, next.  

At first it didn’t seem like that much of a problem, and maybe it wouldn’t have been if he hadn’t kept accommodating people as they approached.  He snapped the first picture with the boy, and then reluctantly agreed to a second with the woman after him, and then to another and another.  

They just kept coming.  

The press of people grew uncomfortable incredibly quickly, bodies shifting and shoving and pushing in too close.  Louis realized in a flash of panic that he could not sit down again.  That he couldn’t get back to his chair, and he couldn’t keep the fans away from him either.  Even the ones who’d had their books signed already had turned around, too excited about the prospect of a picture to head down the stairs.  

Louis tried to extend his hands, palms outward, pleading with everyone to just step back, but they kept closing in.  Closer and closer, a true crush of people now.

Louis’s heart had started to race, and his rising panic made him unsteady on his feet.    

 _Breathe.  Just breathe.  Breathe._ Even that seemed beyond him at that point.  

Louis could hear some of the fans that were pushed up against him asking if he was okay, but he was too scared to speak, his vision beginning to tunnel and his heart beating out of control.        

“Louis!” Harry’s voice boomed out over of the noise of the crowd, deep, yet sharp at the same time.  It cut through the dull haze of Louis’s terror. “I’m coming.  Hold on.  I’m coming.  Breathe.  Breathe.”

Harry was there in the next second, slipping through the crowd like water through rocks.  He hoisted Louis into his arms immediately, and it felt like they were down the stairs and out of the building before Louis had even blinked.  

The next thing he fully registered was that Harry was depositing him in the van and buckling his seatbelt for him.  

“Breathe with me.”  Harry’s voice felt more distant than it had inside when he’d called out to Louis from across the room.  Louis’s whole brain felt like fuzz, his throat still closed up, all of his senses deadened by his receding panic. “Deep breaths, deep breaths, that’s it,” Harry said, placing a hand on Louis’s back and rubbing in big, soothing circles.  “In and out.  In and out.  You got it.”

Louis had just managed to get his breathing back under control by the time they pulled up at the hotel.  He was slumped away from Harry, his forehead pressed up against the cool glass of the window with his eyes squeezed shut.  

“Let’s get you upstairs,” Harry said.  His voice was detached, but now that Louis had regained his grasp on reality, he could feel that Harry was almost vibrating with frustration next to him.  His hand had long since been removed from Louis’s back.   

Louis complied wordlessly, darting into the hotel ahead of Harry so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. They rode the elevator to their floor together in silence, the Muzak playing at what felt like three volume levels too high.  

Louis tried and failed to open the door to his room with his keycard four times before Harry intervened.  

“You have to let it sit there --” Harry cut himself off and grabbed the key right out of Louis’s hand, successfully opening the door on the first try.  

Louis shuffled inside, unsure what to do with himself. He sat down on the edge of his bed, shifting uncomfortably as the silence stretched on and on, neither of them speaking.  His whole body ached, muscles sore and nerves raw.  

It was Harry who spoke first, after what felt like ages.  “I guess don’t do that again, then,” he said, and the blatant absence of emotion in his voice, his resolute calmness, was what made Louis snap.

“What, you’re not even going to yell at me properly?” he demanded hotly, marching over to his suitcase to rummage around in it violently, just to have something to do with his hands.  He was shaking with anger.  

“What do you want me to say, Louis?” Harry shot back, following him over to the suitcase, a touch too close on his heels. “That it was a reckless decision? A mistake? Okay! It was! That was fucking stupid of you. Don’t do it again.”

“Maybe if you’d been doing your job right, it wouldn’t have happened,” Louis snipped, even though he knew very well that Harry had been doing his job, had done his job well. He rifled through his toiletry case, looking for his ibuprofen, mostly to distract himself from Harry, who was absolutely fuming beside him.    

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Harry’s voice definitely wasn’t free of emotion now.  His words came out rapid-fire, like little knives stabbing right into Louis’s skin.  “You want me to really not do my job?  You want me to leave you there next time? You want me to leave right now?  I’ll fucking go.”

The prospect of Harry quitting was the worst thing Louis could possibly think of, but he was so frustrated and angry about how Harry had been acting for the past several weeks that he couldn’t pull back from the edge.  

“Well, maybe you should!” he shouted, turning to glare right at Harry, his chest heaving.  Tears of frustration stung in his eyes and it just made him even more angry that he might cry in front of Harry over this.  “Maybe you should leave!  Just quit already! What are you even doing here, Harry? How can you possibly be doing your job when you can’t even look at me!”

Harry had been standing with his hands on his hips, shoulders squared and his eyes blazing, and he visibly deflated at Louis words, like a puppet with its strings cut.

He let out a thick, broken laugh, shutting his eyes for a moment. “That’s just it, Louis,” he whispered with a rueful shake of his head, his voice tender as he reopened his eyes. “I can’t _stop_ looking at you.  I can’t look away.  That’s the whole problem.   You’re all I see… ”  

Never in Louis’s life had he truly gone weak in the knees.  He did now, though, teetering to the side and then bracing his left leg against the bed so he didn’t collapse onto the floor in a melted heap of emotion as Harry’s words washed over him.  

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but his voice wobbled when he spoke again, anyway.  “I miss you.”  

Harry took a sharp breath and then swore.  He was over to Louis in less than a heartbeat, cupping his face in his hands.  

“ _Lou_.”

Then they were kissing.  Hot and slick and full of urgency.  Louis gasped into Harry’s mouth, his whole body shuddering at the first brush of Harry’s tongue against his.  They pressed themselves together, Louis’s arms wrapping around Harry’s neck as he tried to get as close as possible.  Nothing seemed good enough, close enough.

The kisses deepened, and Louis sighed out a moan as he sank right into them, tingling from head to foot. He wanted so much all at once that he felt crazed with it, but the desperation was cut by the sweet relief of being able to touch Harry this way, at last.   

 _Finally.  Finally.  Finally.  More.  More.  More.  Please, more._   

Harry’s hands were everywhere.  Smoothing through Louis’s hair and down his back.  Squeezing at his hips and running up his sides.   Like Harry was frantic to map him out entirely and didn’t know where to start.    

Louis had gone lightheaded with lust, and he was shaking a little as he lowered himself back onto the bed behind them, pulling Harry down on top of him and right into another urgent kiss.

“Harry,” he whined, shivering and arching into it as Harry’s lips trailed down his neck, his teeth running over Louis’s jugular.  

Harry was straddling him, and he sat back at the sound of his name, breathing heavily as he took a minute to take Louis in from above.  His dark hair was sticking up in every direction, eyes bright-hot and lips rubbed red.  He was so beautiful and so clearly turned on by Louis that Louis couldn’t bring himself to look directly at him.  It was overwhelming.  

Louis turned his head to the side, pink faced and bashful under Harry’s appreciative gaze, his blood thrumming through him.    

“You are fucking gorgeous,” Harry breathed out in wonder, seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his own handing running down the front of Louis’s shirt, like he couldn’t fully comprehend this was really happening to him. “I’ve wanted -- _God.”_ Harry blinked up at Louis, a sheepish sort of smirk curling his lips. “I cannot wait to see your cock.”

It startled a laugh out of Louis, and he squirmed in happy, achy pleasure when Harry started to unbutton his shirt quickly, kissing at each newly revealed patch of skin.  Harry cursed softly under his breath again when he pushed the shirt completely open, fully revealing Louis’s torso for the first time.  

Louis let out another breathy, aroused laugh and rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me without my shirt on before.”

Harry shot him a look, eyes dark and his brow cocked in disbelief. “You say that like I haven’t wanted to react this way every single one of those times...”  He thumbed at Louis’s little nipples, pulling a soft sound out of Louis’s chest. “Fuck.  Look at you.  You make me --” Harry shook his head.  “I can’t even think straight.”

Another wave of slow heat rolled through Louis’s body, adding to the color on his cheeks. He divested himself of the shirt completely, tossing it to the floor and tugging at Harry’s so he would do the same.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, running his fingers through Harry’s soft hair and holding onto the back of his neck, once they were chest to chest again, Harry shirtless and slotted between his legs. “Will you fuck me?”

Harry nodded, groaning into another kiss and grinding their hips together as his hands roamed over Louis’s body again. He started to babble a little when they broke apart, like his mind was racing as fast as his heart and he couldn’t quite organize his thoughts. “Just want to feel you all over, first.  This -- this -- the waiting --  I’ve wanted -- so much, and I just.  I need to see you.”   

Louis moved into every stroking touch, relishing the feel of skin against skin and letting his own hands start to explore Harry in return.  He ran his fingers over Harry’s powerful shoulders and biceps and then across his chest, pressing into the wonderful, springy muscle there before giving one of Harry’s dark, pebbled nipples a lingering, wet kiss.  The shuddering moan that earned him spurred him on, and he mouthed his way up to Harry’s neck, intoxicated by the perfect suppleness of Harry’s skin under his lips.  

He couldn’t get enough.   

Harry pulled back again, panting for a second before his hands dropped down to Louis’s fly, an obvious question on his wild-eyed face.  Louis’s chest was heaving in time with Harry’s, his cock rock hard and begging for attention in his jeans.  He couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than for Harry to unbutton them, and give him some release.  Fuck him fast and hard until they both came, and then start all over again.    

_Finally.  Finally.  Please.  Please._

Every nerve in Louis’s body was screaming out for him to say yes.  To nod frantically and give Harry the green light, but the sudden flicker of doubt in his heart made him pause instead.  He sat up in bed, scooching back from Harry slightly and closing his hand over Harry’s where it rested on his jeans.   Stopping him.

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, concern written all over his face.   

Louis swallowed hard, his heart lodged in his throat.  He felt incredibly fragile all of sudden, afraid of how Harry might respond to what he was going to say. “You’re not -- like, um,” he scratched at his temple, “you’re not going to regret this, are you?  Because if -- ”

“No.  No,” Harry shook his head firmly, his brow furrowing further as his concern deepened.  “No, I will not regret this.  I could never -- “

“Because if we’re not going to be close again, after…” Louis whispered, hating that there was a tremor in his voice.  He knew how small he sounded.  “I don’t think, um.  I really don’t think I could handle it...”  

Harry was stricken, his shoulders hunching in.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’m sorry, I’ve been such a jackass,” he muttered, looking utterly ashamed.  “I-I thought if I could just keep things more professional, I could -- I could do my job better… But -- I-I can’t be away from you like that.”  Harry shook his head, peering at Louis with big eyes, like he was begging him to understand. “It’s been awful, and made everything so much worse.  I don’t want that.  Please forgive me.”

Louis nodded tentatively, hope stirring to life next to the desire that was still burning in his belly.  “Okay --”

“I want you,“ Harry murmured, his eyes locked in on Louis’s, “and not -- not just like this,” he went on, gesturing between their two bodies. “I like, I want so much with you that I can’t fully describe it…”

Louis huffed out a laugh, flattered and edging toward elated.  “Okay --”

Harry cut him off again, the urgency in his eyes intensifying. “I need you to understand, I really will not regret this.  It’s like --” he huffed out a shy laugh. “It’s a literal dream come true.  It means so --”

Louis couldn’t stand being so far apart a second longer, and launched himself at Harry and cut him off with a kiss.  He poured all of his unexpressed emotion into it, crawling on top of Harry and knocking him back onto the scratchy hotel bedspread in his enthusiasm.  

“Me too,” he finally gasped out, minutes later, both of them panting and flush-faced, their erections grinding together through way too many layers of fabric.  “I want -- me too.  I want you -- want so much with you, too.”

Watching joy bloom on Harry’s face broke Louis’s heart right open.  He didn’t have long to dwell on it, though, because in the next second Harry had flipped them around, pinning Louis to the bed and kissing the life out of him.  

“I could kiss you forever,” Harry admitted, not even fully removing his lips from Louis’s throat to say so.  

Louis laughed, running his fingers through Harry’s gorgeous dark hair again and relishing the soft, crisp feel of it. He pushed it back from Harry’s forehead so he could get a direct look at his face.  “Do you think you can stop long enough to fuck me, though?”   

“Guess maybe I could swing it,” Harry whispered back, smiling into the crook of Louis’s neck, dimple deep.  

They shed their clothes quickly, Louis running over to his toiletry bag for lube and -- thank God -- an unexpired condom.  As soon as he was back on the bed, Harry wrapped a hand around him, stroking him smooth and firm.  

“I knew your cock would be perfect,” Harry said smugly, clearly taking great enjoyment in watching his hand move over it and in making Louis twitch.

“Shut up,” Louis moaned, edging toward desperation, his hips jerking up into the tight circle of Harry’s fingers slightly.

“Mmmkay,” Harry said, agreeably distracted by the task at hand.  He made sensually expert work of opening Louis up, reveling in the small sounds that Louis couldn’t help but make as Harry’s fingers moved inside him.  

Harry slotted a pillow in under Louis to help with the angle, and smiled down at him as he lined up, his eyes soft.  “Ready?”

Louis nodded, taking a deep, hitching breath in order to get his emotions under control.  “Yeah.  Yes.  Yes.”  His heart was beating like a drum, ears ringing and his whole body lit up bright, as Harry pushed slowly inside.  Relishing the stretch as Harry bottomed out.     

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry moaned, reaching up to lace their fingers together above Louis’s head as he began to fuck him in earnest.

“It’s good.  It’s good,” Louis whispered back, rocking his hips in time with Harry’s.  He let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and groan when Harry reached down between them and wrapped a big hand around Louis’s dick again, tugging in time with his thrusts and quickly bringing Louis right to the edge.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry breathed out, the near agonizing state of his pleasure obvious on his face, his hips driving forward erratically.

Louis squeezed his eyes shut against the heat building in his own stomach, warmth pulsing through him every time Harry said his name.  He wanted to hear Harry moaning it out that way for the rest of his life, and the thought of it, together with the feel of Harry’s hand around him and Harry’s cock, deep inside him, was enough to make Louis come.  The strength of his orgasm took him by surprise, and his breath punched out of him in a shocked gasp, his muscles seizing as his whole body throbbed with pleasure.  

He was vaguely aware that Harry was cursing again, driving in, right to the hilt, before he was coming too, whimpering Louis’s name one more time.

They curled together in the bed afterward, Harry’s head pillowed on Louis’s chest, and Louis started to laugh silently when he realized they’d never even made it under the covers.

“What?” Harry murmured, not bothering to lift his head.

“Nothing, really,” Louis said, still laughing a little.  “It’s just, I give Liam such a hard time about being, like, overly paranoid about hotel room cleanliness...”

Harry started laughing against him, no further explanation needed.  “Should force him to come in here with a black light,” he said, tracing patterns on Louis’s side with his fingertips. “Ruin the rest of his life.”

Louis giggled, squeezing Harry and then thrilling at the degree of their closeness.  His heart twisted in his chest; everything felt bittersweet.  “I really did miss you,” he murmured into Harry’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

Harry let out a sad humming noise in response, squeezing Louis back. “I did too,” he mumbled, “so much.  And I’m sorry --”  

“I’m sorry, too,” Louis interrupted, his heart dropping into his stomach at thought of the way he’d teased Harry that day by the lake, taking it way too far. “I should never have -- that was too much, that -- that day.  I put you in a terrible position…”

Harry pressed a kiss into Louis’s sternum. “I wasn’t lying when I said I loved every second of it,” he laughed sheepishly, hooking an ankle around one of Louis’s and snuggling even closer. “I was just.  I felt _so_ embarrassed, afterward.  Like, out of control.  And scared, really and I -- “ he cut himself off sighing like he need to gather his thoughts. “I meant what I said earlier, too.  I felt like,” he made a noise of frustration. “Like I was obsessed with you and -- and I couldn’t pay attention to anything else.  And how could I keep you safe that way?  How could I keep track of our surroundings when you were the only thing I ever cared to look at?”

Louis’s heart clenched with sympathy over the predicament Harry had been in -- that he had put him in by ignoring everything but his own selfish desire and pushing things too far.  

“Harry --”

“No, wait,” Harry said, drawing back slightly so he could look Louis in the eye, face soft and open as he took one of Louis’s hands. “I just want to say.  I feel like such a hypocrite, telling you over and over you should talk about your feelings and then just closing right off myself.  Freezing you out…”

Louis cleared his throat. “We both made mistakes,” he said, pulling Harry to him again so he could stroke his hands down Harry’s back. “I was --” he laughed, “I _am_ obsessed with you too, and I let it take over… I couldn’t -- I couldn’t think past it, and I put you in an awkward position, and I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry whispered, a big hand coming to Louis’s face so he could guide him into a slow, sweet kiss. “We’re better as a team,” he whispered, when they broke apart, and Louis grinned in agreement as they settled into the pillows together.  

Louis knew they still had a lot to discuss about how this was even going to work going forward, not to mention the little disaster at the signing earlier that day, but it all felt so far away at the moment.  He just wanted to stay cuddled up with Harry for a while, not thinking about anything else, like they were the only two people that mattered in the whole world.

*

Harry didn’t let Louis ignore reality for long.  

“Don’t freak out about what I’m going to say,” he whispered, as they crawled back into bed together early the next morning, having woken up for a nice, slow fuck and then a long, hot shower.

Louis tensed up, immediately starting to freak out.

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Louis’s hand so he could kiss it.  “I’m going to have to quit.”

“Wha --”

“Hey, hey,” Harry said, giving him a look.  “I’m not leaving you, I just can’t be your bodyguard…”

“Well, who --”

“I’ll call Zayn in the morning; he’ll be on the next flight out here,” Harry explained, rubbing circles on the back of Louis’s hand with his thumb.   

“What, is he at your beck and call or something?” Louis asked, genuinely confused.  

Harry laughed, his eyes scrunching up at the corners.  “Nah, but like.  He made some pretty good investments, after we got out of the SEALs.  Helped me with that too.  He’s loaded and bored and he loves your show, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Okay,” Louis said, sinking back down into the pillows.  His brow furrowed and he narrowed his eyes at Harry.  “Wait, so are you loaded, too?”

“I’ve done okay,” Harry sniffed, cultivating a haughty air with the ridiculous positioning of his chin.

Louis let out a scoffing snort, rolling his eyes and shoving at Harry’s shoulder.

Harry’s dimple was so deep Louis thought he might be able to hold a dime in it.  “Nah, I’m just teasing,” he said, his eyes twinkling in the dark. “I’m like, financially secure.  I don’t make syndication money, though.”

“Shut up,” Louis said. “Seriously though, like. I don’t want you hanging around for the rest of the book tour if you need to be making money…”

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” Harry said, with another kiss to Louis’s hand.  “There’s more stuff I need to tell you though, so keep not freaking out, okay?”

Louis nodded, nervous again.  Even though he trusted Harry.

“Zayn’s been looking at the pictures and the letters, and going through social media a lot,” Harry explained.  “He found a few partial prints on the last envelope, but more importantly --”

“Has Zayn been working for me this whole time without getting paid?” Louis interrupted.

Harry snorted. “I told you, he gets bored.  Plus, he’s like, way better at computer shit than I am.  And I always pay him in beers the next time I see him.”

“What’s he like?  Is he as incredibly handsome as you are?”

Harry let out a delighted bark of a laugh, shaking his head afterward and smiling.  

“What?” Louis asked, annoyed at not being in on the joke.

“You’ll see,” he said, waving him off.  “Now, do you want to hear the rest of this stuff or what?  He just sent me all this information yesterday during the signing; I didn’t have a chance to look at it until you fell asleep last night.”

Louis let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, yeah, I guess I’m ready.”

It turned out that Zayn had found a Twitter account of a fan of the show, who was doing _Good Books_ fan art in the exact same overly ornate calligraphy that had been used on the letters Louis had received.  

“This person hasn’t posted any like, definitive evidence they’ve been to your house,” Harry explained, “but they did tag the account location as Youngstown.”

“Okay,” Louis whispered.

“They have an Etsy account linked to the Twitter, where they do commissions --”

“Couldn’t my, um,” even after all this time, Louis still sometimes had trouble putting a name to what was happening, “my stalker have commissioned the letters, then?”

“I really doubt that for a few reasons,” Harry said, smirking a little, and nudging Louis with his elbow, “which I was going to explain…”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, go on.”

“So, the really important part is that Zayn set up some fake Etsy accounts and commissioned some stuff, and it’s an ink match with the letters you got in the mail.”  Louis took a deep breath like he was going to speak again, but Harry held up a hand, indicating that he should wait. “Now, I don’t think the letters were commissioned by someone because, besides the fact that the content is incredibly creepy, the word count of the letters you got far exceeds the limit the artist set on the Etsy site.”  

“What about --”

“Now, we tried to do a special commission from the artist, extra long, and were willing to up the price, and they said no.  That doesn’t mean they’ve never made an exception before, but I do think it’s telling,” Harry went on.  He was still holding Louis’s hand, playing with his fingers now.  “Also.  Okay, bear with me now.  So like, this person has a fan Twitter account, which is what Zayn found, and the calligraphy art he posts there is mostly just like, famous quotes from the show and stuff.  Or just like, _Good Books_ , all fancy, that type of thing. It links to the Etsy account, but the Etsy account has its own non-fandom Twitter, since he will fill commissions that are not about _Good Books._ Got it?”

Louis nodded.  “Yeah…”

“Okay, so the non-fandom twitter that just promotes the Etsy is tagged as being located in Youngstown too.  So, unless the letters were coincidentally commissioned by another person who develops pictures there...  Plus, and this part is significant, I think, given the content of the letters you got,” Harry shifted on the bed, reaching out for Louis’s other hand, “it’s clear when going through this person’s fan Twitter that Marlon is their favorite character and that they absolutely hate it when he’s in a relationship with someone or it’s even being hinted that he’s attracted to someone else on the show.”

Louis raised his eyebrows and scrunched up his face.  That was certainly unusual.  Most of the fans were split between shipping Marlon with Paul’s character, Justin Wakefield (Brookfield) or Rupal’s, Ruchana Shah (Marlana).  Louis hated to judge the diehard fans over their shipping habits, though.  Caring about something and having a very strong opinion about it didn’t make them weirdos or crazy or more likely to stalk someone.

“Of course, that alone doesn’t have to mean anything, but!” Harry said, taking a deep breath, “Zayn found his Instagram, and he follows you and comments on posts, too --”

“Wait, so it’s a man?” Louis said, finally catching the pronoun.  “Like you have a name?”

Harry nodded. “Yep, we think his name is Ronald Dell.”

“Can we go to the --”

“We don’t have enough to go to the police yet, but we will if he makes an outright threat in another letter or posts something scarier to his Twitter.”  Harry let out a little huff. “The anti-stalking laws are pretty frustrating, and we don’t have actual proof he broke into your house, but knowing what he looks like is definitely a big help in terms of keeping you safe.”  

“Do you have a picture?” Louis asked, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Harry nodded again, looking a little ashamed. “I know this is a lot a once.  I didn’t want to tell you until we matched up the ink for sure, but I should have.  I should have trusted you to handle it...”

“It’s okay,” Louis said, leaning forward to kiss him on the temple. “You’re telling me now, and you’ve done such good work.”

Harry blushed, looking more ashamed, his face slack.  He clearly did not think he’d been doing very good work.  “Hey, hey,” Louis said, pulling Harry in so he was curled against his chest, “It’s okay now.  We figured it out.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Louis whispered, happy to have his face buried in Harry’s hair again.   _Roasted coffee beans._ “So,” he said, his pulse rate picking up a little.  He tightened his arms around Harry, feeling a spike of endearment over the way Harry made himself smaller to fit into them.  “If Zayn’s gonna be here as my bodyguard…”

“Mhmmm,” Harry hummed, his fingers brushing over Louis’s belly before settling on his hip.   

“What will you be here as, then?” Louis asked leadingly, his heart thumping even harder in his chest.   

He saw Harry’s mouth curl into a tiny little smile. “What would _you_ want me to be here as?” he asked back.

Louis shrugged, keeping his tone as light as possible, playing his fingers against his lips like he was considering the options. “I don’t know… something like... volunteer security consultant?”

Harry groaned in happy annoyance, laughing as he rolled onto his back and tugged Louis on top of him.  His cheeks turned pink, but he was grinning.  “Would you -- maybe, instead -- would you possibly consider…”

“Yes?”

“Having me stay here as…”

Louis leaned forward a little in anticipation, nodding in encouragement.

“As your…” Harry said, drawing it out even further.  

“If you don’t say boyfriend in the next two seconds, I will hit you,” Louis said, pinning Harry’s shoulders back to the bed and watching in delight as Harry let out a howl of a laugh.

“Will you be my boyfriend, Louis?” Harry asked, when he was done laughing, absolutely beaming.  

“Uh huh,” Louis said, grinning so wide his face hurt as he leaned in for a kiss. “I will, yes.”

 *

Louis had thought he’d had enough social media discussion for a few days, but as soon as he and Harry stumbled into the team meeting in Aniyah’s room later that morning, it was all anyone wanted to talk about.  It tied right in with them giving Harry and Louis a sufficiently hard time for disappearing for about twenty hours.   

“Well, well, well,” Niall said, when they walked in, “look who it is! At long last!”

“If your fans only knew the truth!” Liam said, shaking his head.  

“I don’t think they’d survive it,” Rupal said with a snort.

“What are you talking about?” Louis asked, through a mouthful of bagel as he settled into an open loveseat, gesturing for Harry to come sit next to him.  

“A video of your dramatic rescue made it onto the internet,” Niall said, smirking.  “Some of your fans are concerned about you, of course, but like, mostly they just want to know who your super hot bodyguard is.  Well, there’s a lot of fighting going on about how people shouldn’t be wondering that, even though they are. You know the drill.”

Louis groaned, burying his head in his hands. “Great.”

“You’ve got shippers, of course,” Liam informed him, “and they have no idea how right they are.”

Louis squirmed, unsure if he should deny Liam’s assumption, when Harry reached out and took his hand, removing the possibility from the table for him.

 _He’s your boyfriend now, relax_.  

Niall frowned for a second.  “Okay, wait,” he said, “I have some posts I want to read you, but first!  Are you okay?  That was intense yesterday, are you all right?”

Louis smiled, nodding.  Harry squeezed his hand. “It was definitely rough, but I am more than okay.”

Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Thank you for texting instead of banging on the door.”   Both Niall and Liam had been checking in with them all day by text, making sure everything was fine, but they’d given them their privacy.

“No problem, dude,” Niall said.  “I’m an excellent friend.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but Louis laughed.  He knew it was true.  

“Okay, but now!”  Niall said, whipping his phone out front and center with a theatrical flourish. “Listen to this incredible accuracy! A post by --” his brow furrowed as he apparently tried to parse a username. “By _marlonbrookscandomybooks_.  ‘I know, okay.  I know we should be focusing on hoping Louis is okay.  And like, it’s really too bad those fans put him in that situation.  But.  Have we seen chemistry like this since that charity soccer game with James McAvoy?? I DON’T THINK SO!!’ ”

Harry burst out laughing, slinging a possessive arm around Louis’s shoulders.  “Got it bad for McAvoy, huh?”

“Shut up!” Louis said, huffing and fluffing out his shirt indignantly.  “Butt pats are a part of sports, for crying out loud!  That whole situation was blown way out of proportion!”

That only made Harry laugh harder, which Louis didn’t mind.  

“My dream,” Niall said, eyes bright, “would be for someone to write a Chasing Liberty AU about the two of you.”

Liam rolled his eyes again. “No one even understands what you’re saying, Niall.”

“Niall runs a fan Tumblr so he can keep up with what’s going on,” Louis explained to Harry, playing with his fingers where they were draped over his shoulder.  

“Should I make a post?” Niall mumbled to no one in particular, still staring down at his phone. “No one ever reblogs my shit though…”

“ _Are_ you okay?” Harry whispered to Louis, bending their heads close together on the little couch.  “We never really discussed what happened all the way…”

“I’m fine,” Louis whispered back.  He gave Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, not caring who saw.  “Thank you for asking.”

The meeting ran a little longer than usual, given that Harry had to debrief everyone else on the status of Louis’s situation and show them Ronald Dell’s photograph.  

“He’s so nondescript,” Rupal said, frowning as she passed Harry’s phone down to Paul.  

He was.  Ronald Dell was just a regular, run-of-the-mill white guy in his late thirties.  Everything about him seemed almost beige to Louis, right down to his hair.  

“If you see someone that looks like him coming into a signing or lurking around our hotel, anywhere at all really, please tell Louis’s new bodyguard right away,” Harry said.  “It’s a real possibility he could be there tomorrow; he’s from Ohio.”

 _An hour and sixteen minutes.  An hour and sixteen minutes._   

Louis had Google mapped that, too.  Youngstown was just an hour and sixteen minutes away from Cleveland.  

“Thanks for all of your help, guys,” Louis said, pushing the thought from his mind.

The chorus of supportive replies warmed his heart, and he relaxed into Harry’s side on the sofa, feeling truly at ease for the first time in a long time.  

 *

Zayn Malik met them at the airport in Cleveland the next day, and Louis snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting Harry an incredulous look when he finally saw him.  

“What the fuck, has he been making money as an editorial print model, too?” Louis asked, as Zayn approached them from across the terminal, all dark hair and leather and cheekbones.  “Does he just live Blue Steel?”

Harry laughed, Louis’s reaction apparently exactly what he’d been hoping for.  He tugged Zayn into a giant hug as soon as he reached them, almost lifting him off the ground a little in his enthusiasm.

“Zayn, this is my boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson. Louis, this is Zayn Malik, my best friend.”

Louis felt a little dazed as he shook hands with Zayn, unprepared for the way his whole body flushed upon hearing Harry introduce him as his boyfriend. “Thank -- thank you so much for doing this,” he stammered.

“My pleasure.”  Zayn nodded toward Harry. “This guy’s helped me out of a scrape or two over the years.”

Harry was grinning ear to ear, clearly getting a kick out of introducing two of his favorite people.  “Didn’t seem so grateful after Lake Pontchartrain…”

Zayn rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Let’s leave the past in the past, okay, Styles?”  He turned to Louis.  “So, you’ve got a signing this afternoon?”

Louis nodded.

“What else do I need to know to keep you safe?”

 *

Four hours later, they’d briefed Zayn on the small tidbits of information he didn’t already know, and Louis was just about finished with another signing.  The crowd management went much better than it had in Pittsburgh, everything moving like clockwork.  Louis had barely had time to worry about an incident with Dell, and he’d felt subconsciously comforted knowing that Zayn was standing right behind him and Harry was keeping track of people at the door the entire time.  

Later, he’d feel like he should have known.  Should have had some special sixth sense that tingled to let him know that Harry was in danger, and that he should stay away from the event.  Just stay away from Louis in general, until everything was over.  

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked, rubbing at Louis’s shoulders after the event had wrapped up. They were standing outside the bookstore with Zayn, waiting for Rupal to finish talking to a few last fans so they could get in the shuttle and go back to the hotel.  

“Good,” Louis said, stretching out the muscles in his right hand, which were quite sore from all the signing, in a blatant ploy to garner sympathy.  It worked.  Harry started rubbing his hand instead, moving the bones and muscles around in a way that felt wonderful.

 _Can’t believe I’m so lucky._  That was almost his very last thought before everything descended into chaos.   

“No sign of him, today?” Louis asked, and it was almost like he’d summoned Ronald Dell by referring to him.   Had conjured him right out of thin air, even though really Dell had just come around the corner of the building, a piece of metal glinting in his hand.

Harry and Zayn would later blame themselves for not moving Louis right into the van after they’d come out of the building, but in the heat of the actual moment, they did everything correctly.  They closed ranks in front of Louis immediately, Zayn shoving him back into the van and quickly shutting the door.

What they hadn’t anticipated was that Louis was never Ronald’s intended target.  He’d been coming for Harry the whole time, and Louis watched in slow motion horror as a two-and-a-half inch knife sank into Harry’s right shoulder, just before Harry threw Dell to the ground, subduing him with a knee in the back.

“Har --”  Harry’s name strangled in Louis’s throat, and he went beyond lightheaded, spots appearing in his field of vision as he fought not to pass out.  He could hear the driver of the van calling 911, but it felt like it was miles away from him and getting farther away every second.

  _Harry.  Harry.  Harry._   He didn’t realize at first that he was screaming Harry’s name out loud.

"Louis.”  Harry suddenly appeared in the sliding doorway of the van, blood blooming on his shoulder around the knife like a morbid, bright-red poppy.  Zayn had taken over for Harry and had Ronald Dell pinned to the sidewalk, busy patting him down for more weapons.  “I’m okay, it’s going to be okay.  You’re okay.  We’re all okay.  We got him, you’re okay... Just breathe.  Just breathe.  We’re gonna send you back to the hotel --”

“NO!“ Louis gasped out, clutching at the back of Harry’s strong neck, careful to avoid jostling his wound as he did so.  He twisted desperate fingers into Harry’s hair, which was tangled and tacky with sweat. “No! I won’t go,” Louis mumbled. “You can’t make me go, not when you’re not okay.  I won’t leave you.  Not when you’re hurt.  You’re hurt.  You have a knife in your arm.”

Harry smiled at him, smoothing Louis’s hair back from his forehead with his left hand. “This?” he said, shrugging, “I’ve had worse injuries on fishing trips.”

“Shut up about Lake Pontchartrain, you dick,” Zayn shouted, sounding like he was barely physically taxed by holding Ronald Dell down on the pavement.

Harry’s expression shifted when he saw the miserable, outraged look on Louis’s face.  “Hey, baby,” he said, cradling Louis’s head against his good shoulder. “I’m not playing tough, okay?  Well, only a little.  This hurts like hell, but I haven’t lost much blood, and I promise you I’m gonna be all right.”

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry,” Louis whispered, pressing his eyes into Harry’s shirt to blot away the tears as soon as they leaked out.

“Not your fault.  Could never be your fault,” Harry said, still holding the back of Louis’s head in his hand.  Louis could hear the sound of sirens coming closer now. “I love you, Louis.  We’re going to be okay.”

Louis couldn’t hold back the sob that tore out of his chest, and he pressed his face further into Harry’s shoulder.  “I love you, too.  So much.  So, so much.”

“I’m right here.  I’m not going anywhere.”

They huddled together in the doorway, holding each other until the police and the ambulance arrived.  

*

“You wanna get me a beer while you’re up?” Harry asked, looking at Louis from where he was relaxing on a chaise lounge with what was obviously supposed to be a winning smile on his face.

“What’s in it for me?” Louis asked, arching a brow.

Harry smirked. “Well, there are other beers available in the fridge, so, you know, you could get one of those for yourself, too,” he shrugged, still smiling, “if you wanted…”  

“Fine!” Louis said, marching off toward the house, so Harry didn’t get the satisfaction of seeing him laugh.  “Fine!”

“And I’ll give you a kiss when you get back!” Harry called out, way too easy to guilt. “Kisses are always available even when beers are not!”

“You are so embarrassing,” Louis shouted over his shoulder and he could practically feel how big Harry was grinning in response from across the yard.  

The remainder of the book tour had been canceled after the attack, and Harry and Louis had headed back to Spofford Lake so Harry could recuperate there.  It had been almost four weeks, and even though Harry had just gotten the okay not to use his sling anymore, he was still milking his status as an injured party.  

Louis looked at Harry from inside the screened-in porch, two cold beers in hand, his heart twisting with love just at the splayed sight of Harry’s big, dorky feet.  He had a flip flop tanline now.  Louis smiled.  He truly wouldn’t mind if Harry milked it for the next year and a half; he wanted to take care of Harry Styles for the rest of his life.   

“I hope you weren’t expecting a wheat beer!” he called out, as he jogged back down the deck steps and headed over to Harry.  “We’re all out!”

Louis was still having nightmares about the attack.  He would wake up a few times a week shaking and sweating, absolutely certain that Ronald Dell was already standing in their bedroom or was on the other side of the door, his knife fisted in his hand.  

Ronald Dell was in jail in Ohio, though, awaiting trial for assault with a deadly weapon.  He’d been denied bail in part because of the evidence of harassment that Harry and Zayn had already gathered against him.  

Dell had been obsessed with Louis, convinced they were going to get married.  Which was why he’d stabbed Harry in the end, enraged by all the online chatter about he and Louis being in love after the incident in Pittsburgh.    

“You’re safe,” Harry would whisper in the dark, every time Louis woke up from a bad dream.  “We’re together, and we’re safe.  It’s just you and me.  I love you.  I love you.”

They’d both separately started seeing a counselor in the area to help with the trauma of what they’d gone through, and if Louis didn’t have production starting up on _Good Books_ in a month, he wasn’t sure he’d have ever wanted to go back to LA.

“You can quit, if you want to,” Liam had said.  “No one would blame you for being done after all of this shit.”

“Nah, I think I’ve got at least three more seasons in me,” he’d replied, keeping it to himself that he’d already started thinking about when he and Harry might want to start raising kids.

Louis was thinking about that, about Harry balancing a toddler on his lap while sunbathing, when he leaned over to give Harry his beer, plopping down onto the chair next to him and sighing deeply.  

“What?” he asked, when Harry kept peering at him with expectant eyes.

Harry made a tsking sound, his face quickly shifting into a ridiculous pout.  “I believe I was promised a kiss,” he pointed out, raising his eyebrows.

Louis let out a loud laugh.  “I did no such thing!” he said, even as he was setting his beer down and getting to his feet to close the distance between them. “ _You_ said kisses were available… You offered _me_ a kiss. I never said I would give you one.”

“Is that really what happened?” Harry asked, sliding a hand up Louis’s neck and burying it in his hair when their lips were inches apart. “I don’t remember it that way, exactly...”

They both smiled into the kiss, Louis’s eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.  

“Love you,” Harry whispered, when they broke apart.

“Love you, too,” Louis said, collapsing back down onto his own chair. 

Harry grinned at him. “I know you’re lying about us being out of wheat beer, by the way.”

  
  


     

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Sorry for an inaccuracies in terms of bodyguard realism etc. Also I got the info in the self-defense scene from youtube so take that under advisement. thank you!! :))


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